Adam's Daughter Part 18

He awkwardly kissed her cheek. "It won't be that bad," he said. "Call me, if you need to."

At that moment, the door of the study opened, and Adam appeared in the doorway. Kellen stared at him, her eyes hard as she fought back tears.

Adam came over to her. With a look at the others, he picked up the small travel satchel Hildie had prepared. He touched Kellen's shoulder but she shrugged off his hand and walked slowly out the door.

He followed her out to the car, handing the bag to the chauffeur.

Kellen stared at the car for a moment then turned quickly to look up at Adam. Suddenly, she couldn't hold back the tears anymore and they fell down her cheeks.

"Daddy?" she said.

He stared at her. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Be a good girl, Kellen," he said.

He straightened and took a step back. She waited, but it was clear that he had nothing more to say. She got into the car beside Hildie and the door closed with a soft thud. The car pulled away and she turned to look out the rear window. Through her tears, she saw Adam standing there, alone in front of the big white house. He stood there unmoving, until the car turned down the hill and he disappeared.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

With Kellen gone, Adam withdrew even more into himself. His world shrank down to his office at the newspaper and his study at home, with an occasional trip to the Olympic Club to swim mindlessly in the pool.

Kellen never called him, and at Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter she didn't come home, choosing instead to stay at school. Two days after Pa.s.sover ended, Josh came to the house for dinner. He sat at the table, watching Adam's wan face.

Neither man spoke and the candles cast long shadows in the large empty dining room. Josh sensed that Adam wanted to talk about something.

"What's bothering you?" he finally asked.

Adam looked up. "Nothing really. Just that a.s.shole in Portland trying to squeeze me for an extra million on his s.h.i.tty rag. But I'll pay it. It's a good market."

Josh waited. He knew how hard it was for Adam to talk. "It's something else," Josh said. "Is it Kellen? Is she having problems at the new school?"

"Nope. Nothing but great reports from the nuns. She's a smart kid." He sipped his coffee and smiled ironically. "She must really like that school," he said. "She didn't want to come home for any of the holidays, you know."

Josh decided to plunge in. "Listen, there's something you ought to know. Kellen is very angry with you. She's been writing these long letters to Stephen."

"Angry? Why? For putting her in school? It's one of the best in the country."

"She's angry because you shut her out of your life." Josh paused, waiting for Adam's usual quick rise of anger but it didn't come. Instead, Adam stared at the tablecloth in silence.

"Why did you send her away, Adam?" Josh asked.

Another silence. Then Adam ran his hand slowly over his eyes. "I couldn't stand to look at her, Josh," he said. "She reminds me so much of Elizabeth."

Josh had never seen Adam cry and he knew that he wouldn't be allowed to see it now. "You hurt her," Josh said finally. "She told Stephen she feels abandoned, 'like an orphan' was how she put it. She said that she feels she lost not only her mother but you, too."

Adam's eyes traveling over the dining room. "This house is so empty, Josh. It's driving me crazy. I sit here sometimes alone at night and hear and see things that aren't there."

"Bring Kellen home," Josh said. "She needs you, Adam. And you need her."

Adam closed his eyes. It was quiet for a long time. Finally, Josh picked up the coffee service and poured himself and Adam another cup. When he pushed the cup across the table Adam didn't touch it.

"You haven't been yourself, Adam." Josh paused, picking his way carefully now, knowing he was treading on tender ground. "You need something in your life besides the newspapers. You need to be with people again. You need a social life."

Adam shook his head. "I don't need anything like that anymore, Josh."

"You're drying up inside."

"What are you trying to tell me? That I should go out and get laid, for crissake?"

Josh took a long drink of coffee then set the cup down. He leaned closer across the table. "Adam, I tell you this because I'm your friend. Elizabeth is gone. She's been gone almost a year now. And she was sick for a long time before that. But you're still here."

"Get to your point, Josh."

"My point is that Elizabeth wouldn't have wanted you to be like this. She loved life, and she taught you to do the same."

Adam stared at Josh. "Are you done?" he asked finally.

Josh sat back in his chair. "Adam --"

"It's getting late, Josh."

Josh recognized the tone of dismissal. He had pushed far enough for one night. He rose slowly. "It was an excellent dinner, Adam. I'll see you at the office Monday. I'll show myself out."

"Josh?"

Josh looked back.

Adam paused. "Thanks for coming."

Adam waited until he heard the front door close then went to his study. He sat down at his desk, reached into a drawer and pulled out a silver picture frame. It was a photograph of Elizabeth taken when she was thirty-five, in the fullest bloom of her beauty. He stared at it for a long time then set it down on the desk. It was the first time since the funeral he had looked at her picture.

He expected some flood of emotion to engulf him. But nothing came. The emptiness surprised and saddened him. Maybe Josh was right, maybe he couldn't feel anything anymore. But he knew that wasn't true. He felt an overwhelming loneliness. It had been building for months, and now, suddenly, he ached for the nearness of another human being. He put Elizabeth's picture back in the drawer.

He left the house and drove aimlessly around the city. After an hour, he pulled up to a stone mansion on Pine Street. He rang the bell, and a doorman appeared.

"Mr. Bryant to see Miss Stanford, please," Adam said.

Adam was ushered into an alcove then he followed a maid up a winding staircase into a large room with a gla.s.s ceiling and a fountain, its waters illuminated by colored lights.

"Adam, what a surprise."

He turned at the sound of the voice. Sally Stanford glided toward him, smiling.

"You look good, Sally," he said. "So does your new place."

"Oh, I've been here for years. You, however, have been away a long time. I was sorry to hear about your wife."

Adam smiled politely. He was standing in one of the world's most celebrated houses of prost.i.tution, a house that had hosted some of the most famous men in the world. He knew that Sally could be counted on for complete discretion. But he suddenly felt vulnerable.

"Would you like a drink?" Sally asked.

"Perhaps later."

"I've changed things since we last saw each other, Adam. I have many lovely rooms, each decorated in a different mood."

"I trust your judgment."

She smiled. "And I never disappointed you. Claire will show you to your room. It's good to see you again, Adam."

The maid led Adam to a softly lit bedroom furnished with Victorian antiques. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace, and a selection of liquor and crystal sat on a sideboard. Adam poured a brandy, took off his coat and tie, and sat down on the bed.

After a few minutes, the door opened and a young woman stood there. She was medium height, with long blond hair. She was wearing a pink silk robe.

"I'm Marie," she said. "And you are...?"

For a moment he thought of giving the woman a false name. "Adam," he said.

She came into the room and sat down beside him on the bed. She was pretty, about twenty-five, with pale blue eyes and a heart-shaped face. "And what do you do, Adam?"

He stared at her. She didn't know who he was. The anonymity made him relax slightly. "I work for a newspaper," he said.

She glanced at his custom-made suit, his shoes and watch, the quality not escaping her eye. She also saw the gold wedding band he still wore. Adam noticed her looking at it.

"I'm married," he lied.

She smiled. "Most are," she said.

She reached up to unb.u.t.ton Adam's shirt, and instinctively he pulled back. "You're tense," she said softly. She began to gently ma.s.sage his shoulders. "I can feel how tight you are."

Adam closed his eyes. Her fingers probing his muscles felt good. He could smell her perfume, a heavy oriental musk that didn't suit her porcelain looks.

"Whatever it is," she whispered, "I can make it go away."

When she leaned into him he could feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s press against his back and her long hair brush his neck. Her hands moved lower down his sides and slowly over his thighs. He could feel himself growing hard. A jolt of guilt went through him as he thought of Elizabeth but he thrust it aside.

He turned quickly and pushed Marie down on the bed. He stripped off his clothes and untied her robe. In his urgency, he barely noticed her body. He lowered himself and entered her quickly and brusquely, losing himself in the sensation of his flesh against hers, soft and warm and yielding. He thrust against her, thinking nothing, feeling everything. And when he came, he cried out and grasped her to him in a violent embrace.

He lay there for a moment, his face buried in her hair. He had come to this place a dead man, but his own body told him he wasn't. Elizabeth was gone but he was alive, and he had to go on. The realization made him ache both with relief and unbearable sorrow.

He began to cry. Silent streams of tears fell down his cheeks. They grew into sobs and he let them come. His tears fell on Marie's bare neck.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms across his back and rocked him gently.

A week later, Adam sent for Kellen. He was standing outside the house waiting for her when she arrived. The car pulled up, and the chauffeur opened the door.

Kellen stepped out. She stood, looking up at Adam with wary eyes, her lips compressed in a thin line.

Adam stared at her, seeing Elizabeth, feeling his hurt all over again.

He bent down and held out his arms. Kellen rushed into them.

"Forgive me, Lil'bit," he whispered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

Adam was in his office when the call came in from Sally Stanford. "I wouldn't call you at the office," she said, "but this is important. You'll have to come over right away."

"Impossible."

"It's Marie. Please get here as soon as you can."

The line went dead. Adam hung up the phone. He couldn't believe it -- Marie was back. She had been gone for almost a year and now suddenly she was back. Adam sank back in his chair, stunned.

When Marie had left last June without a warning, Adam had been surprised, even annoyed. He had been seeing the young woman often since that first night and had thought they had enough of a relationship to at least merit a good-bye. He had given her many gifts and money, and he had paid Sally good money to secure Marie's exclusivity. It was not that he particularly cared for her. But he knew that on some level he needed her. Ever since that first night, she had been there for his s.e.xual and emotional needs. It had been a healing experience, and after she left he had felt no need for another woman. But now, she was back.

At the house, Sally greeted him, looking troubled.

"Where is she?" Adam asked.

"She was here this morning while I was out," Sally paused. "She picked up some things and now it looks like she's disappeared again."

"Then why did you call me to come over?"

"I think you'd better come up to her room."

Something in the tone of Sally's voice made Adam follow her up to the bedroom where he had spent so many hours. Marie's musky perfume still hung in the air.

"She left you something," Sally said, pointing to a small cardboard box on the bed.

Adam went to the bed and peered inside the box. Nestled amid some towels was a sleeping baby.

Adam turned back toward Sally. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"I didn't have anything to do with it," Sally said. "The cleaning girl found it with this letter addressed to you." She held out an envelope.

Adam hesitated then opened it. The letter inside was written in an inflated flowery hand.

Adam, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about this but I didn't know how. I didn't plan for this to happen but it did. I can't raise him by myself because then I will never realize my ambition to be a great actress. I know you'll give him the best.