Season Of Passion Part 33

"Well, why not?" She glared at him sheepishly for a moment, and then defiantly. "I can't let you make all my decisions for me, Nick. Even if we do get married one day. I did that with Tom, and it just wasn't right."

"I understand that. I think we've been handling that fairly well."

"So do I." She softened again. "And that's not the only thing you've been handling well."

"Oh?" The mischief danced in his eyes again, and she laughed.

"No, you lecher, I meant Tygue. You've gotten him over all the rough spots. I don't think he resents you even a little anymore."

"I think that seeing his father will help even more."

"Probably. But you've done a beautiful job, darling. I'm afraid neither of us was too easy at first."

"My G.o.d, a confession. Quick, the tape recorder ..."

"Oh shut up." She reached over playfully and tweaked the hair on his chest. "And by the way, I'm closing the house."

"What house?" Life with Kate was full of surprises. For all he knew, she was closing the San Francisco house and moving them all somewhere else.

"This house, silly. I don't need it anymore."

"You mean you're giving up your ace? The retreat where you can always flee from me?"

"That's not how I looked at it." She tried to sound insulted, but she was already giggling. "How did you know?"

"Because I'm not as dumb as you like to think I am."

"I would never think such a thing."

"Good. Then tell me the truth about why you're closing the house, and explain to me what you mean by 'closing' it. You mean giving it up completely?"

"Completely. We don't need it. We never come down here, we're not going to, and I wouldn't want to anyway. This is a part of my life that's over." And then her face grew sober again, and she slowly opened her hand and looked at the wedding ring she had slipped from her finger moments before. "It's over. Just like this."

And then, wordlessly, she put the ring down on a table and came into his arms. She had never been as free with him as she was that night. It was as though something in her had been uncaged, and she gave herself to him in ways she never had before, her body arching and writhing in ecstasy beneath the expertise of his hands and his tongue.

The next morning, they had a quiet breakfast alone in the kitchen before they woke Tygue and told him that he was leaving that morning with Nick.

"Without you, Mom?" She expected a few moments of protest and was surprised by the look of delight on his face.

"Don't look so heartbroken about it, you creep." But in fact she was relieved. It was as though their little family had solidified in the past few days.

"How long do we get to be alone?" His eyes danced at the prospect and Nick laughed.

"As long as it takes me to pack up this house. Speaking of which, young man, I want you to go through your games and toys this morning and decide what you're giving away and what you want in San Francisco." There wasn't too much left in his closet and cupboards, but enough to keep him busy for a couple of hours.

They all rolled up their sleeves and started packing that morning, but by late afternoon Kate was working alone. After lunch, Nick and Tygue had piled into the car and driven back to San Francisco. And Kate was surprised how comfortable it was to be alone in the house. She did a lot of thinking as she packed up the boxes she and Nick had gotten at the supermarket before lunch.

He had been right, she was giving something up by letting go of the house. But it was something she didn't want anymore anyway, an emergency exit, a place to hide, a place where she could keep herself from Nick. She had liked knowing that she had that, but she didn't need that anymore. If she needed to get away from him, or express her independence, she could do it with words, or a long walk, or a trip alone somewhere for a weekend, but not by coming back to the place where she had lived for seven years, mourning the past. There was nothing left to mourn. And if she found herself frightened or bothered or bugged, sometime in the future, she could handle that too-without running away. It was a nice thing to know about herself.

It took her three days to pack up the house. She gave a lot of things away, labeled some boxes for Tillie, and left them in the garage. And she collected what amounted to a small truckload of odds and ends and useful items that she arranged to have sent up to the city. After that there was nothing left. She sent a letter to notify the landlord that she was leaving, and wondered if it wasn't time for him to retire there anyway. Maybe he would finally use the house himself one of these days. It had served her well. It had kept her secret safe for all those years. She remembered how happy she had been when she first got there. Happy just to be away from the h.e.l.l she had lived through, happy as she lay on the gra.s.s in the springtime, feeling Tygue grow inside her, and so happy when he had been born and she brought him home. She stood in the bedroom on the last morning, and remembered looking out over those same hills, all those years ago, with Tygue in her arms. And then solemnly, she turned on her heel, and walked out of the house.

CHAPTER 36.

"I'm home!" It was four o'clock in the afternoon when she arrived. And everyone was there, even Bert, wagging his tail in the front yard as she got out of the ugly little rented car. Tygue was clattering around on a new pair of roller skates and Nick was just getting some papers out of the car. It seemed as though everyone converged on her at once, talking and laughing and hugging and kissing. Nick was holding her so tight she could hardly breathe.

"Woman, if you go anywhere in the next six months, I'll go stark staring crazy, and furthermore, I'll ..." He grinned. "I'll set fire to your new book!"

"Don't you dare!" She looked at him in horror. She was hungry to get back to that too. She hadn't touched it in weeks.

"If you do that, I'll burn all your jockstraps, and ..."

"What's a jockstrap?" Tygue said it at the top of his lungs and they both laughed. They laughed for the rest of the afternoon. Nick urged Kate to disappear for a "nap," and Tillie shepherded Tygue off down the block to break in his new skates. And when he got back, Nick and Kate were both roaming around in their bathrobes, making tea.

"Want to come to the show tonight, Kate?"

She looked up in surprise. "Like this?"

"No, I kind of thought you'd get dressed." He looked prissy and she made a face at him.

"I mean, you want me on it without my hair done and all that?" She looked horrified, and he sat back in his chair and laughed.

"Listen, Miss Ego, you happen to live with the producer of that show. I wanted to know if you'd like to come and hang out at the studio and keep me company while we tape it."

"And not be a guest on the show?" She looked shocked, but her eyes were dancing.

"What do you think you are, some kind of celebrity or something?"

"h.e.l.l, yes, Mr. Waterman. I'm a best-selling author!"

"Oh yeah?" He slipped his hand into her robe, and then leaned across the table to kiss her.

"You're impossible. But since you invited me"-she looked up with a smile-"I'd love to come keep you company while you tape. Will it bother anyone there?"

"That's their problem. I run the joint. Remember?"

"Oh that's right, you do."

"Sounds to me, young lady, like it's time you came home and settled down. You've forgotten how things run around here."

She let her fingers play along the inside of his arm, and he got goose flesh and looked at her with a gleam in his eye.

"If you do that for much longer, I'm going to get a lot more serious than you bargained for."

"In the kitchen?" She was grinning again. It was just the way they had been in the beginning. The honeymoon was on again.

"Yes, in the kitchen, Cinderella. I will make love to you anytime, anywhere, any way, for the rest of your life. I love you."

She kissed him very softly on the mouth, and they made love very quickly, in the kitchen, before Tygue got home. And they laughed like two outrageously naughty children as they hurried back into their robes, and tried to look as though they'd been drinking tea.

"You've got your robe inside out," she whispered to him as they giggled, and he laughed even harder when he looked at her. She had her belt tied through the sleeve.

"You're a mess."

It went on that way for weeks. Clandestine meetings in what she jokingly called "the attic," making love in the upstairs den, sharing long lazy breakfasts in the kitchen, taking Tygue to the zoo. She watched him tape the show almost as often as he did it, and he sat peacefully in his favorite leather chair as she worked on the new book. It was a kind of Siamese-twin existence but they loved it. They both knew it couldn't go on forever, not like that-she'd have things to do for the new book, and he had a lot of extra work he wanted to do for Jasper's show. But right now they both needed what they were getting. Each other.

"Don't you ever get tired of sitting up here while I clack away on this silly book?"

"Darling, any woman who is making the kind of money you are does not write silly books."

"To what do I owe this renewed respect for my talent?"

"Your last royalty statement. I saw it on your desk this morning. Christ, what are you going to do with all that money?" He was glad she was doing so well. He knew it meant something to her. Security for Tygue, things for herself, gifts she'd like to buy him. But it also meant that she felt independent, and he knew that she needed that.

She was sitting back in her chair, looking at him, wondering what she would give him for Christmas. It was only a month away. "What do you want for Christmas, by the way?" She lit a cigarette and took a sip of cold tea. He had been reading the paper while she worked.

"You know what I'd really like for Christmas?"

"What?" She was grinning, thinking that she knew what he'd say.

"Don't look like that, you dirty old woman. What I'd really like is to see a little color in that pale face of yours. Want to go to Acapulco or someplace for the holidays?" She looked surprised at the thought.

"I've never been there. That might be fun." She was turning the idea over in her mind as he looked at her, but he didn't answer her smile.

"Kate?"

"Hm?"

"Are you feeling all right?" Worry had crept into his face.

"Sure, Why?" But they both knew why. She was tired all the time, her appet.i.te was lousy, and she was always pale. The rings under her eyes had become part of the decor. She was pushing hard on the book though. She had blamed it on that.

"Would you go to see a doctor?" It was the first time he had asked, and it frightened her that he was that worried.

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Okay. I'll see. When I finish the book." And what was he going to tell her that she didn't already know? That she had been under a lot of pressure? That her whole life had altered and her son had run away twice? That she was finishing a five hundred-page book? None of it was news to her. So what was the point of seeing a doctor? "He's not going to tell me anything new. He's just going to say I'm working too hard, or I've been through a lot of changes, or some other bulls.h.i.t like that. Why spend money to listen to that?"

"Do me a favor, and save your money someplace else." He looked at her seriously and stood up. "I mean it, Kate. Promise me you'll go. And not six months from now."

"Yes, my love." She said it too sweetly, and he frowned.

"Promise?"

"Promise, but only if you promise not to worry about it."

"Sure." Both promises were equally empty. She was not a fan of doctors and he was a devoted worrier, at least about her. But none of that changed how she looked. Felicia had noticed it too. But Kate had brushed her off.

"What are you doing today by the way?"

"I'm meeting Felicia for lunch. Want to come?"

"No. I have to talk to a couple of guys at the Press Club over lunch. And then we've got a meeting at the studio. He looked at his watch, and then stooped to kiss her. "In fact, I'm almost late for lunch. I'll be home around three."

"I'll try to be too." She tried. But she didn't make it till five.

She went shopping for an hour, after lunch at Trader Vic's with Licia, and then she'd wandered over to Saks. Just "for a minute" to see what was new. But the store had been crowded and she had gotten tired, and the elevator had taken forever to come, and when it had she was pressed near the back. And when they reached the third floor, they found her crumpled in the rear of the car. She had fainted. They had wanted to call home for her, but she wouldn't let them. She had sat there at Saks for an hour feeling like a fool, with smelling salts under her nose, and she'd taken a cab home. She hadn't wanted to drive. She'd have to tell Nick she'd had a problem with the car. Dammit. And she still felt light-headed and a little dizzy when she got home. She was fully prepared to be amusing and distracting, and get upstairs as fast as she could, to go to bed. He had wanted to take her to the taping of the show, but she'd beg off.

She slid her key into the door, and turned it. The door opened easily, and for a minute she hoped that he wasn't home. But he was. And he was sitting in the living room, waiting for her, his face rigid with rage.

"Have a nice lunch?"

"Very. How was your ..., " But she stopped when she saw his face. "What happened to you?"

"Who's Philip?"

"What?"

"You heard me." He glared at her and she started feeling dizzy again. She slowly sank down in a chair. "Who the h.e.l.l is Philip?"

"How do I know? Is this some kind of a game?" She felt weak but she sounded angry. She was scared. Philip? Philip from New York?

"As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to wonder the same thing. Is this some kind of a game? Every couple of months I find out something new about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This." He walked across the room and threw a piece of paper at her. "It was in an unmarked envelope tucked into the front door. I thought you'd left me a note. I was wrong." The paper was a sandy beige, the ink was brown, and the handwriting distinctive. And then she saw the monogram at the top. PAW. Philip Anthony Wells. She felt her heart slide into her heels. Jesus. And the letter itself did nothing to help. "Sorry you had to leave so suddenly. It was a beautiful lunch, a beautiful evening before that. The music was never the same after you left. I've come West, at last, to see two promises fulfilled. Yours, and that of the zabaglione at Vanessi's. Join me tonight? Call. I'm at the Stanford Court. Love, P." She almost gasped.

"Oh Jesus." She looked up at him with huge eyes that instantly filled with tears.

"That's what I said. It's quite a letter. And don't let me stop you from having dinner with him, darling." His voice dripped hurt and anger. He had felt as though someone had punched him when he read the note. "Just exactly what went on in New York?"

"Nothing, I had dinner with him, by accident, at Gino's."

"By accident?" He looked at her nastily and she jumped to her feet and peeled off her coat.

"Oh for chrissake. I couldn't get a G.o.dd.a.m.n cab from the airport, so we shared one. We happened to be staying at the same hotel. And that night I went to Gino's for dinner, by myself, and he was there. We chatted at the bar, and then we just decided ..." It sounded terrible in the telling and his face was looking anything but relieved. But she decided to press on. "We just decided to share a table. Big deal! So what?"

"And then what?"