Sweet Invocation

by Arline Chase

  "You look a little tired this morning, Princess.” Jamie eyed her thoughtfully as he slid a plate of scrambled eggs onto the table in front of her, cut himself a slice of lemon pie, and slid into the chair opposite. “Maybe I ought to start practicing a little restraint."

  "Don't say it.” Leanna answered with a smile. Her eggs looked light and fluffy, but her mind wasn't on the food. She had to tell him about the baby.

  "Something on your mind?” Jamie took a bite of pie.

  Leanna waved one hand at the pie on his plate. “You must have a stomach made of space-age plastic."

  "Early training, Princess. After years on the road with a band, one tends to forget there are culinary skills that go beyond Big Macs and Twinkies. Besides, pie is very nourishing—it has eggs, cereal grain in the crust, and vitamin C from the lemons."

  Leanna shivered and swallowed back a wave of nausea. What had Sue Ellen called them? Tummy flutters? It was a bit early for them yet—probably the power of suggestion.

  "You'll be at the hospital all day?” Jamie leaned forward, his gaze searching.

  Leanna nodded and her mind flashed ahead to review her work schedule. “I have the McGarrys this morning."

  "From the look on your face, it's going to be a tough one."

  "I try not to get involved with my clients, but sometimes ... it is sad, when people want a child so much and it's just not going to happen for them.” Leanna sighed. “At least they make a change from counseling pregnant teens."

  "Maybe you should take a break, Princess. Let someone else handle the heartaches for awhile. You look like you could do with a vacation.” He got up and cut another piece of pie. “You do have some time off coming, don't you?"

  Leanna noticed the golden lights flashing in Jamie's eyes and realized, for whatever reason, his question was an important one. “Sure, why?"

  "I may be going to England this fall on business. I thought we might make a stab at the honeymoon we never quite got around to.” He looked across the table, one eyebrow raised in question. “London in the fall—coal smoke, fog, damp creeping across the ceilings in ever-changing patterns. Me, working night and day.” Eagerness burned in his eyes, for a moment, then was quickly hidden. “Sound romantic?"

  "England? But that's so far away.” Leanna chewed dry toast and thought from his description he really didn't want her there. “What kind of business?"

  "Nothing important.” Jamie kept his expression shuttered “You don't have to come if you don't want to."

  Leanna knew that Jamie had lived in London. Friends from there called him often, but he never talked much about the past, about the years he had spent away. And she hadn't dared to ask. Since their marriage, they had lived quietly together, both focused entirely on the present. What made her so afraid to test the strength of the marriage they had made? Is Jamie bored with me already? He hadn't acted bored last night, but now he was talking of going away again. Leanna closed her eyes and tried not to think about the years they had spent apart. Years when she had thought of him every single day. The real surprise was that Jamie had asked her to go to London with him at all, lukewarm as the invitation had been.

  "When...?” Leanna felt the stiffness on her face, cursed herself for not being able to give him a bright smile.

  "October, I think."

  "But I thought you set up classes at the University this fall. Your tuition is even paid."

  "You'll get a refund.” Jamie pushed pie crust around his plate, not looking at her.

  Leanna bit her lip. She shouldn't have mentioned money. That was another taboo subject. Jamie's music students didn't pay very well, but they gave him pocket money. Her salary at the hospital was next to nothing. Most of the time Leanna paid household expenses out of the income from the hardware store Malcolm Boyd had left her. Jamie never questioned where the money came from and since she didn't want to talk or even think about her first husband, Leanna stayed away from any subject that might remind her of the bitter past.

  "How long...” Leanna swallowed, “will you be gone?"

  "Some weeks. I'm not exactly sure.” Jamie closed his eyes. “I don't suppose you'd want to take a leave of absence from your job...."

  "My job's not that important.” Feeling nauseated again, Leanna pushed her plate away. “In fact, I've been thinking of quitting altogether."

  Jamie's eyes met hers, glowing gold with an emotion she couldn't read. “Does that mean you will come?"

  "I—I'm not sure.” Leanna licked dry lips, wondering if he really wanted her along. “W-when would we be back?"

  "Early December, I think. By Christmas, for certain."

  That was all right then, she wasn't due until February. She could go, if he really wanted her. “A business trip, you said?"

  "Yes, you know I've been doing some writing—seems the opus is finished at last and there's a fellow in London, who says he'll produce my masterpiece for me."

  "Jamie, that's wonderful! No wonder you were in such a loving mood last night. Why didn't you tell me right away?"

  "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it.” Jamie watched her across the table. She was pale and her hands were trembling, but she hadn't actually said no. “Good news can create as much stress as bad you know."

  Chapter 5

  Leanna walked the McGarrys to the door of the hospital, watched them get into their car and drive away, then returned to her office. Mrs. McGarry had cried all the way and Leanna had had to suppress a tear or two of her own. Jamie was right. She did get too involved with her clients. Just as she had found it impossible not to get involved with Jamie in that long ago summer.

  Leanna sighed, remembering how she had worried over whether he was getting enough to eat, and about his playing music in the honky-tonks down on the flats across the river. Fights in the flats with fists and sometimes knives made the morning news most Sundays. Jamie hadn't worried at all. With a confidence born of youth, he had felt certain that nothing terrible could ever touch him permanently. Even then, Leanna could have told him differently, but she hadn't tried. Somehow, while he was away he had learned first hand that life came with no guarantees.

  The telephone rang and Leanna picked it up, saying automatically, “Pregnancy counseling,” then smiled as Jamie's distinctive voice came over the wire.

  "I made shrimp salad from the leftovers, Princess. Can you make it home to lunch?"

  "Jamie I'm sorry, but I can't today. I'm scheduled for lunch with Farley Ralston."

  "I see.” Jamie's voice sounded suddenly tired.

  "I'm afraid I can't get out of it. Enjoy the shrimp. I'll do something about dinner when I get home."

  "No you won't, Princess. I have other plans tonight.” Jamie managed to sound disappointed, mysterious and pleased with himself at the same time. The shadings in his voice could always convey about six emotions at once. “See you later."

  Leanna shrugged and put down the phone. Jamie was still up to something. Why hadn't she told him about the baby last night as she'd planned? Again, this morning she'd meant to break the news, but he'd brought up London. Jamie would just love dragging an obviously pregnant wife along to meet all his old friends there. At least he'd asked her to go. Given the reason that he'd married her, that was almost more than she hoped for. Certainly, a baby didn't fit in his plans for a London production of his work.

  The thought came unbidden that she still had a couple of weeks to change her mind. Abortion. Leanna had never considered it a viable option, but what if that was what Jamie wanted? At twenty-three, with a career that might blossom into success at last, did he really need wife and baby?

  Does he want a baby? If Leanna's work had taught her nothing else, she had learned that every child deserved to be wanted, cared for, loved. How could she expect Jamie to understand that, when he, himself, had been unwanted? Leanna put her head down in her hands. Thoughts of her first husband came unbidden, unwanted, causing her throat to close and her stomach to lurch in fear. If Jamie's reaction to her pr
egnancy were even remotely like Malcolm's, she'd rather be dead.

  * * * *

  Malcolm. The memory came unbidden. From the beginning, Leanna's first marriage had seemed strange. Feeling lost and alone after the death of her parents when she was seventeen, Malcolm seemed to offer Leanna the substance and security that was missing from her life. He said he was in love with her. At forty-six he was still attractive, his body lean, his thick hair graying only at the temples, his face unlined except for the crinkles around his eyes and the two deep grooves that ran from nose to mouth.

  He urged Leanna to marry him despite her youth, showered her with small gifts and attention until she found it impossible to refuse him, though his kisses brought no fiery passion. His kisses had been chaste, controlled, almost as innocent as her own, but Malcolm had made her feel cherished. Leanna's lips turned down at the corners as she remembered how she had told herself that fondness and friendship would grow into love given time. Because he'd pressed her, they married quickly. She hadn't taken time to ask questions, to meet his friends, to know him better.

  Leanna realized now that she should have asked questions. So many things hadn't added up, when you stopped to think about them. Why was he still a bachelor at forty-six? Why, in all those years, had he never been seriously involved with a woman? Why had her aunt made guarded remarks about a “strangeness” in the Boyd family? Certainly, after their wedding night, Leanna should have realized something was wrong. Though she hadn't known what to expect, she should have realized her feelings of discomfort went far beyond anything she could credit to “bridal nerves."

  Leanna had been a girl with few friends. A loner, who had never shared confidences with other girls. Beyond the basic facts, she had little idea what to expect from her husband. So she had done whatever Malcolm asked, in spite of her pain and embarrassment. Leanna shuddered at the memory. With no real frame of reference, she had accepted his requests as normal and dismissed the glowing descriptions of physical love in the novels she read as romantic dreams.

  No wonder the frankness of Jamie's remark about fireworks in the bedroom had embarrassed her. Malcolm had always insisted she control her emotions. Ironically, until she met Jamie, Leanna hadn't known a woman could feel physical desire. What a pair they had been. As an older married woman, Leanna should have been the sophisticated one, yet Jamie at fifteen, having lived with a mother who was little more than a high-priced call girl, had known far more about sex than she.

  * * * *

  "Excuse me, ma'am. You want this on the desk?"

  Leanna looked up to find one of the security guards standing in the doorway, with a Peace rose in a bud vase. The card read, “Sorry I sprung the London thing on you so suddenly this morning. I'll make it up to you tonight. Dinner at the River Inn?” So that was his mysterious, “other plans.” Probably he had called to see if the rose had arrived. Leanna rubbed it against her cheek, inhaled the spicy scent, and smiled.

  Chapter 6

  Trust Jamie to do something sweet. Even as a boy he'd brought her flowers, books, even a box of chocolates. Leanna had known she should discourage him, that the crush some women would have thought “cute” was painful for Jamie. Any reasonable, married woman, confronted with an adolescent boy who had a crush on her, should have done the sensible thing and sent him away. What kind of woman found herself drawn to a young man who was little more than a boy? Time after time, Leanna swore she would do what was right. But she hadn't been able to force herself to break off the friendship—no the love—that had sprung up between them.

  They spent long lazy summer afternoons talking, and of course the neighbors had noticed. No one could have missed the naked love that glowed in Jamie's eyes. Talk had started in Port LeClare, as talk usually did. Jamie heard the rumors and tried to warn her, but he hadn't been in time. Malcolm had heard them, too. Though Leanna had refused to admit it to herself, Malcolm's difficulties were growing more severe even before Jamie arrived on the scene.

  Previously confined to the bedroom, that summer his aberrations became more frequent, more open, more obviously mad. Irrational rages over little things occurred often. He began to make accusations against Leanna too. She had tried to poison him; plotted to send him away; stolen every small object he misplaced. Every accusation was followed by a punishment—a ritual punishment that involved pain and took place in absolute privacy.

  Though Jamie was her only friend, Leanna hadn't told him about any of the things Malcolm did to punish her. She felt too ashamed. The hours she spent with Jamie were a lake of peace for her in a world going slowly madder by the day. Leanna should have known she couldn't get away with it. She swallowed, her throat tight as she remembered the day Malcolm had come home and found Jamie inside the house.

  * * * *

  On that long-ago afternoon, Leanna listened spellbound while Jamie played the grand piano in the drawing room. He worked his way through her favorite Chopin, then drifted into “Moonlight Sonata,” looking up at her every once in awhile to make sure she liked it, his eyes glowing with the pleasure he was giving her.

  "Where did you learn to play so well?"

  "One of my mother's husbands taught me. He was an Englishman named Oliver Featherston. Tuned pianos for a living. Played in bars. Gave a few lessons, when he wasn't too drunk. He was the only man Mom ever had who was worth a damn."

  "Were you sorry when he left?"

  "Oliver didn't leave. He drank himself to death.” The boy's face showed no emotion, eyes half shut above high cheekbones, as if he had nothing more on his mind than the music. Even then she had recognized grief when Jamie's face got that carefully controlled stillness. Still, if Leanna hadn't looked into the golden depths of his eyes just then, she would have missed the depth of his pain.

  "Jamie, I know how hard it is to lose someone you care about."

  "Yes ... you lost both your parents.... “Jamie studied the keyboard, not meeting her gaze.

  "Yes, I did. Even so, I always felt as if I was more of a duty than a pleasure to them."

  "I know what you mean.” Jamie nodded, his eyes narrowed. “After years of being only a slight inconvenience, I'm suddenly too much in Lilah's way. Things are going swimmingly now with number five. But he's dropping lines like, ‘Don't worry, I'll see the boy is well taken care of—perhaps a nice military school. Discipline, that's what he needs.’ Jesus!” Jamie's fingers slammed a discord. “Can you see me in a military school?"

  "Jamie, how awful. No wonder you've seemed worried."

  "Well, I'm not going to let them do it. I can take care of myself. I earn enough now to get by. Some guys I play music with are taking a band on the road and thanks to working here, I was able to buy a decent guitar...."

  "Jamie, you can't! Who'd take care of you?"

  Jamie's face took on the shuttered look again. “Who takes care of me now, Leanna?"

  So intent were they on their conversation, that neither of them heard the front door open, or Malcolm Boyd's footsteps in the foyer.

  "Oh, there you are Pet.” Malcolm's smooth voice made Leanna start. “I want—” He broke off when he noticed the boy. “What are you doing inside the house, Mallory? You're paid to do the outside work, not to waste time fooling around—or to cozy up to my wife."

  "Yes sir.” Jamie got to his feet, nodded to Leanna, then headed for the door.

  "Don't come back here, understand?"

  Jamie nodded from the doorway and left.

  Malcolm waited until Jamie's footsteps had faded to silence, then he turned to Leanna. “If I catch him inside the house again, I'll kill him. Do you understand me, wife?"

  Looking into the mad eyes of her husband, Leanna hadn't a doubt he meant every word. “Malcolm, he's only a child."

  "He's no child. He's got a man's hunger for you, I can see that plain enough."

  "It's just a harmless crush. Boys go through stages like that. To think there is anything wrong between us is crazy. Try not to be unreasonable."

  Malco
lm's lips pulled back to show clenched teeth. “Don't you ever question my reason. Do you hear me?” He grabbed her arm hard enough to leave bruises. Not for the first time, Leanna's blood chilled.

  "You're afraid, aren't you? How dare you look at me that way?” Malcolm gripped Leanna's shoulders and shook her until her head spun. “I am your husband and I give the orders here. You keep away from him. If you disobey, you will be punished and so will he. Do you understand? You are never to be alone with that boy again!"

  "Yes.” Leanna wept as she promised again and again, never to see Jamie, or talk to him again. She had actually believed that day that things could get no worse between herself and her husband. How wrong she had been.

  * * * *

  A knock on the open door, startled Leanna. Flustered, she put one hand over her heart and grinned at Mary Pearson, the volunteer who filled in for her during the lunch hour.

  "You asked me to remind you of your lunch appointment, Mrs. Mallory."

  "Thanks.” Leanna cleared her papers away, took out her purse, and went out to meet with Malcolm Boyd's oldest friend.

  * * * *

  In the kitchen of their house across town, Jamie went over his telephone conversation with Leanna in his mind. A business luncheon with Farley Ralston. Again? Suddenly, he wasn't hungry. He shoved the shrimp salad into the refrigerator and cleaned up the table. Farley Ralston. For the third time in as many weeks. And Leanna certainly hadn't been acting like herself lately. No use trying to kid himself about that. Was this her way of letting him know that she was no longer satisfied in their marriage?

  Jamie remembered the many unsubtle ways his mother had let her lovers know they were no longer in favor. One found his clothes packed and sitting on the front steps in the rain. Another came home to an empty apartment, with two months back rent due. Jamie remembered helping her load everything in the car, hurrying so they could be well away before “that miserly jerk” returned from his shift at the factory. The words to an old Paul Simon tune drifted through his mind and Jamie smiled. Over the years, Lilah Mallory had used up most of the fifty ways to lose a lover.