Immediate Family (22 page)

As suddenly as it had come over him, his anger ebbed. He didn’t want to punish Vivienne. What he wanted was for none of this to have happened. For Stephan not to have died and for her not to have run away to Paris. He wanted their marriage to be what it should have been.

He turned to go, announcing, as if to no one in particular, “I’ll be at Franny’s if you need me.”

Vivienne jumped up and followed him to the door. “Franny. Of course.” Her voice turned bitter. “Why do you need me when you have
her?”

He swung around. “Are you suggesting…?”

She didn’t let him finish. “Yes, you’ve suffered. I know that. But you have another child. While I…I have nothing.”

He felt a sort of pity for her then and part of him hoped that in time she’d know the joy he’d found with Ruth. But it wasn’t enough to make him stay. “Good-bye,” he said, as he let himself out. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Franny was just getting off the phone with Emerson when Jay appeared at her door without warning. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, and one look at his face told her he hadn’t come to retrieve an umbrella or jacket he’d accidentally left behind. If he’d been mugged on the way over, he couldn’t have looked in worse shape, his face ashen, dark circles under his eyes and his hair disheveled. Even his coat seemed to hang awry on his lanky frame.

“Jay, what is it? What’s wrong?” she cried.

Wordlessly, he took her in his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel the pounding of his heart against her rib cage. “It’s a long story,” he said. “First, I need to sit down.”

In the living room, he sank down on the sofa and she brought him a cup of coffee. After he’d calmed down a bit, the whole story came out. About Vivienne’s tearful confession, and how it had forced him to confront what he’d known in his heart for some time: that it was over between them. “I just didn’t want to admit it,” he said. “I think Viv must have felt it, too. Why else would she have cheated on me?”

“Oh, Jay. How awful for you.” Franny’s heart went out to him. She reached for his hand. “After all you’ve been through. Now this.”

“I’ll admit, I was thrown. But I suppose I should have expected it.” He sounded more resigned than angry.

“If I were you, I’d want to put my fist through a wall.”

“I nearly did.” He smiled crookedly. “But a funny thing happened on my way over.” He gazed at Franny in a way that made goose bumps break out on her arms. “I realized that maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I could finally admit how unhappy I’ve been.”

“But I always thought—” She broke off, frowning. There was no denying that lately there had been some pretty visible cracks in his marriage. Not the least of which was their own growing attachment.

“Me, too,” he said. “It wasn’t until after the baby that I started to wonder if maybe the reason it all fell apart was because there had been nothing holding it together in the first place.”

“But you loved her once.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged.

“What about Vivienne, does she love you?”

“I suppose, in her own way. But to tell the truth, I’m not really sure why she married me.”

“I
know,” she said, speaking up in his defense. “You’re kind and thoughtful, not to mention smart, funny, and good-looking.” In short, everything a woman could want in a husband.

He smiled. “You left out sexy.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Her cheeks warmed at the memory of their kiss.

“Maybe it’s time you found out.”

Franny felt the heat spread through her. Something was happening here. Something she’d secretly wanted to happen, but didn’t know how to handle.

“Be serious,” she said with a laugh. “You always went for the leggy blondes. Emerson was more your type than me.”

“I’m completely serious.” His frank gaze left no room for doubt.

“You’re not thinking straight,” she insisted nonetheless, growing panicky. “You just found out your wife cheated on you. Plus, we had a baby together. Even if it wasn’t the old-fashioned way, that’s enough to mess with anyone’s head.”

“If I was confused before, it’s perfectly clear to me now.” He spoke calmly, holding her gaze.
“You’re
my family. You and Ruth.”

Franny sat back, not knowing what to make of it all. “Are you sure you’re not just saying this because of what happened with Viv?”

“You know me better than that.”

Franny’s heart was pounding so, the whole room seemed to reverberate with each beat. Questions she had no answer for swirled in her head. If they fizzled as lovers, could they ever go back to being friends? And what about Keith? “I know you, but I don’t know
me,”
she said. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a mess myself right now.” Being a new mom had wreaked havoc with her hormones. How could she trust her feelings when she couldn’t watch a stupid Hallmark commercial without reaching for a box of Kleenex?

“You don’t look a mess,” he said, as if he hadn’t noticed her stained blouse and her stomach spilling over the top of her too tight jeans. “In fact, you’ve never been more beautiful.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Just the ones I’ve knocked up.”

She snorted. “You’re a real charmer.”

Franny jumped to her feet before they could wade in any deeper, carrying their coffee mugs into the kitchen, where she busied herself washing up. For once, she was sorry that Ruth was down for her nap. She could have used the distraction. Oh, God, why was her heart racing like this? Didn’t it know better?

But what her heart knew was that this wasn’t just a knee-jerk reaction on Jay’s part. He’d clearly given it some thought. As had she. So why was she so skittish?

She wasn’t aware that he’d crept up behind her until she heard him say, in a teasing voice, “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

The mug in her soapy hands slipped into the sink with a clunk. Slowly she turned to face him, her cheeks burning. “Jay, this is crazy, you know that, don’t you?”

He arched a brow. “Crazy because you think I’m nuts…or because you feel the same way?”

“Both,” she said.

He came to her then and wrapped his arms around her. “Franny,” he murmured. Just that, her name.

Even as she clung to him, she went on shaking her head. “We can’t do this. We can’t pretend we’re a family when we’re not.”

“Who’s pretending?” He drew back to look at her, and if there was any doubt in her mind, she didn’t see it reflected in his clear-eyed gaze. “The only thing I’m wondering is what took us so long.”

“Maybe we were too close to the forest to see the trees,” she said in a voice that was little more than a croak.

“Or too blind to know the difference.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“This is the part where I kiss you.”

He leaned in and his mouth closed over hers, not tentatively like the first time, but with conviction. She parted her lips, letting the tip of his tongue play over hers. It should have felt strange, but instead it felt like the most natural thing in the world, and at the same time deeply thrilling. She was vaguely aware of the edge of the counter pressing into the small of her back and the soap bubbles fizzing on her hands as they dried. From the apartment next door drifted the faint sound of a stereo playing, music that might have been the soundtrack to this weird movie she’d found herself starring in.

Jay drew back to whisper in her ear, “Proceed directly to the bedroom. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“What, I don’t get the hotel on Park Place?” she said, giving a shaky laugh.

In the bedroom, with Ruth sound asleep in her cradle, Franny undressed with her back to Jay so he wouldn’t see her naked and change his mind before she could duck under the covers. But Jay wasn’t having any of it. As she was reaching around to unhook her bra, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her so she was facing him.

“Let me look at you,” he said.

“They’re huge, I know,” she said, feeling self-conscious as his eyes dropped to her breasts. “It takes a little getting used to.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I can handle it.” He smiled, bending to kiss first one, then the other.

She realized then that she had nothing to hide…or fear. They were still Jay and Franny, the same two people they’d always been. The only difference now was that their minds knew what their hearts had known all along.

They made love on the bed, with the sunlight streaming in through the blinds—Jay astonishing her at each turn, but no more so than her own body, which had been more or less dormant in that regard since giving birth but which now blazed to life with a roar. With each new place he explored with his hands and mouth, she was left gasping for breath and desperate for more. But where she’d always approached lovemaking like everything else in life, with gusto, she found herself taking her time, savoring each delicious sensation.

Oh, God…to think all these years there had been this amazing lover inside the man she’d thought of as her best friend. Was this
Jay
licking the tender hollow between her breasts and running his thumbs lightly over her nipples, making her shudder with delight? Kissing her there…and there…and, oh, sweet God in heaven,
there?
With her eyes shut and the languorous afternoon light warming her limbs, she could almost believe this was an erotic dream.

She explored every inch of him, from the mole behind his left ear to the little trail of golden hairs on his belly that disappeared into the thatch below, stopping to kiss and lick, until at one point he groaned, “You’d better stop, or I’ll come.”

“That’s sort of the point.” She said pulling herself up to nibble on his earlobe.

“No, you first.” He pushed her onto her back, straddling her.

This time she didn’t—couldn’t—hold back. As he entered her, she arched back to take him in, wrapping her legs around him. Moments later they were coming together, Franny with an unbridled yell as she hurtled through the vast, star-spangled space behind her closed eyelids.

“Wow,” she gasped, when she finally came up for air. “And to think I settled for a turkey baster when I could’ve had this.”

He grinned. “You can’t say we didn’t make up for lost time.”

“You’re not sorry, are you?” she asked a little while later, as they lay snuggled together under the covers.

“You mean because of Viv? No.” He turned to her. “How about you?”

She knew he meant Keith. She sighed. “I’m not sorry, no. It’s just that I hate the thought of hurting someone who’s been nothing but good to me.”

She hadn’t thought about Keith while they were making love, but now the unpleasant realization crept in: She’d have to break off their engagement. How could she marry him now? It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She was pondering her dilemma when Ruth awoke with a cry.

“I’ll get her,” said Jay, climbing out of bed. Minutes later he was back, holding a freshly diapered Ruth.

He’d no sooner handed her over than she latched on hungrily to Franny’s nipple. Whatever had been bothering her before, she was all business now, nursing with a sense of purpose, her tiny fists kneading Franny’s breast as she squinted up at her like a drunken sailor on shore leave.

“Now there’s a girl who knows what she wants,” Jay said. His smiling gaze met Franny’s over their daughter’s downy head. “One more thing she inherited from her mom.”

She saw the question in his eyes and knew he needed to be reassured that
this
was what she wanted. But she couldn’t make that promise just yet. Not until she’d resolved things with Keith. And that she would have to do face-to-face. She owed Keith that much.

“Let’s hope she didn’t inherit my big mouth along with that appetite,” Franny said with a laugh, leaving thoughts of the future for another day. “Speaking of food, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Which reminds me, I still have that frittata in the oven….”

A
fter they’d checked out the dinosaur skeletons in the main hall of the American Museum of Natural History, they wandered over to the culture hall. This section hadn’t changed much from when Emerson’s nannies had taken her here on rainy days when she was Ainsley’s age: the same gloomy, semideserted corridors lit by the lunar glow from the dioramas of various primitive peoples. They paused before one of a polar bear rearing up, teeth bared as if to attack the life-size wax Eskimo brandishing a harpoon at it. The bear, its glass eyes dull and fur matted, looked as if it didn’t care whether it ate or got eaten. Ainsley, too, seemed bored. She didn’t perk up until they reached the African Peoples exhibit.

“Look, Mommy, A-F-R-I-C-A,” she spelled aloud. “That’s where Reggie’s from.”

At the mention of his name, Emerson felt a familiar loosening in her belly. She hadn’t seen him in months, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about him night and day. His graceful, long-fingered hands and how they’d felt against her skin, and his low, musical voice in her ear as they’d caressed each other in bed. She’d replay their conversations, marveling anew at his insights and his knowledge about a vast range of subjects. Now she was reminded of how he’d gone out of his way to be kind to her little girl.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and look at more dinosaur bones?” she suggested, when Ainsley showed no interest in moving on.

“I want to see
Africa,”
her daughter insisted.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough,” Emerson said. She needed no more reminders that Reggie would be returning to his homeland any day now.

“But you
said.”
Ainsley scowled up at her.

Emerson sighed. It had been a battle just getting Ainsley dressed this morning—she’d insisted on wearing the sparkly pink Hello Kitty sweatshirt she’d outgrown and that was now a size too small—and Emerson didn’t want another meltdown. Since the meeting with Mrs. Ballard, Emerson had been making a concerted effort to spend more quality time with her daughter. That, along with the therapist Ainsley had been seeing, seemed to be helping. They hadn’t been able to pinpoint what, if anything, was bothering her. But Ainsley
had
been less moody these days. It was just that today everything Emerson suggested seemed to rub her the wrong way.

“All right,” she said, “but if we look at the whole exhibit, we’ll be late for the planetarium.” They had tickets for the two-twenty showing in the Rose Center across the street.

Ainsley lingered nonetheless, studying each diorama. She became entranced by one in particular, which depicted some sort of tribal ritual complete with feathered headdresses and carved wooden masks. Would Reggie wear funny things like that when he went back home? she wanted to know. Would he dance around the fire in his bare feet?

Emerson smiled, explaining that it wasn’t like that in all parts of Africa. Reggie came from a village where the people were more likely to wear the kind of clothes they saw on the streets of New York.

“Have you ever been there?” Ainsley asked.

“No, but he’s told me what it’s like.”

“I wish he didn’t have to go back. I wish he could be with us.” Ainsley heaved the deep, unfettered sigh of a child who saw no reason to hide the fact that she was in mourning.

“Me, too,” Emerson replied in a soft voice. Eyeing her ghostly reflection in the diorama’s thick glass, she wondered what he was doing right now, if he was thinking of her.

Earlier in the week, she’d gotten word that his court appeal had been denied, which meant he’d run out of recourses. Soon he would be leaving, and she’d have to face the fact that she might never see him again. At the thought, she felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. If only they’d had a chance to say good-bye! She could have told him how much he meant to her, how he’d brought her back to life when she’d been as dead inside as those wax figures behind the glass. She could have held and kissed him one last time…

“Mommy, are you crying?”

Emerson touched her cheek and found that it was wet. She was about to make up some excuse about having something in her eye, but the anxious look on her daughter’s face as she peered up at her reminded her so much of herself at that age, she decided to be honest instead. “I’m fine, sweetie…just a little sad about Reggie,” she said, smiling through her tears.

“It’ll be okay, Mommy.” Ainsley wrapped her arms around Emerson, burying her face in the folds of her skirt. “Grandma said so. She said someday you’d see she did the right thing.”

Emerson stiffened, a red light switching on in her head. “What did Grandma say exactly?”

Ainsley drew back, looking worried. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

“You can tell me. I’m your mom.”

“But…”

Emerson knelt down so she was eye level with her daughter. Ainsley looked both scared and a little defiant, like when she’d gotten caught doing something naughty. “Honey, whatever it is, Grandma shouldn’t have asked you to keep it a secret. That was wrong of her.”

“Are you mad at Grandma?” Ainsley’s lower lip quivered.

“No, I’m not mad.”
But I have a feeling I will be,
she added silently. “I just want to know what she said.”

In a tiny mouse voice, Ainsley said, “I heard her talking on the phone with Aunt Florence.” Marjorie’s sister in Boca Raton. “Grandma told her she sent a letter saying some things about Reggie.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Is it true, Mommy? Did Reggie do something bad?”

The red light in Emerson’s head was pulsing now. “No, honey, he didn’t.”

“Then why did Grandma say that?”

Emerson closed her eyes for an instant, praying for the strength to keep from losing it. “I think it was because she didn’t like that Reggie and I were friends.” It was all she could do to maintain an even tone.

“He’s
my
friend, too,” Ainsley stated emphatically.

“I know, sweetie, but with us it was special. Like with Mommy and Daddy when we were married.”
Enough pretending.
All that sneaking around was what had given Marjorie license to take matters in her own hands. It was time she started telling the truth.

“Is that why he was in your bed?”

Startled, Emerson rocked back on her heels. So Ainsley had seen them after all. She must have caught a glimpse through the doorway when Emerson was slipping out of the bedroom that day she’d come home sick from Callie’s party. More to the point, she was okay with it. She adored Reggie, so it was only natural her mother would, too. If Emerson hadn’t been so upset, she’d have smiled at the irony of her seven-year-old’s being wiser than she.

“Yes, honey,” she said.

“Does Daddy know?”

“We talked about it. Actually, I think he’d like Reggie.” She gave a small smile.

Ainsley frowned. “I thought Grandma liked him, too.”

“I’m sure she does. She just didn’t like that I was seeing him.”

“Is that why he had to go away?”

Emerson nodded, for a moment not trusting herself to speak. “Something like that.”

Ainsley eyed her in confusion. To her, there was only right and wrong, with no shades of gray in between. She didn’t understand the complex strategies by which adults had to navigate the world. Someday she would, and when that day came, Emerson would mourn her loss of innocence.

But right now she had bigger concerns. Like Marjorie. It was high time Emerson confronted her, to hell with the consequences.

Somehow she made it through the rest of the afternoon. At the Rose Center, she dutifully oohed and aahed as the ersatz heavens were rolled out for their viewing pleasure. Afterward, she treated Ainsley to high tea at the Lowell Hotel, where they nibbled on miniature sandwiches and éclairs. All the while, Emerson was simmering inside as she rehearsed in her mind what she would say to her mother.

In the cab on their way home, she phoned Briggs to ask if he’d mind having Ainsley overnight. Something had come up, she told him. To her relief, he didn’t press for details.

After she’d dropped Ainsley off at his place, Emerson could at last give in to the anger that had been throbbing inside her all day, like a blister about to burst. As she stepped through the glass door into the lobby of her mother’s building, Nacario took one look at her and made the sign of the cross, muttering,
“Madre de Dios.
Someone’s in trouble.”

“I think you can guess who,” she said in a low, tight voice.

He shot her a warning look. “Don’t forget, she’s your mother.”

“Not anymore,” she said. “I’m officially resigning as her daughter.”

“Cuídate, chiquita,”
he called after her as she marched past him on her way to the elevator.
Be careful, little one.

Reggie’s replacement, an older woman named Sonia, met her at the door as she was letting herself in with her own key—Nacario must have called ahead to alert her. “Your mother’s asleep,” she informed Emerson in a hushed voice.

“Good.” Emerson stepped past her.
She’ll need to be plenty rested for what I have to say.

“She’s had a rough day…,” the nurse protested weakly, hurrying to keep up with her as she continued down the hall.

Which is about to get a whole lot rougher,
Emerson thought.

Her mother must have been awakened by the sound of their voices, for she was sitting up in bed, powdering her nose, when Emerson walked in. “Darling! What a nice surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” She took her eyes off the compact in her hand, her smile falling away when she saw the expression on Emerson’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I think you know.” Emerson’s voice was cold.

“Really, darling, I’m not a mind reader. You’ll have to be a little more specific.” Marjorie’s innocent look didn’t fool her. Emerson hadn’t missed the way her mother’s gaze flicked toward the door, as if to make sure it was shut. God forbid the hired help should overhear.

“I found out something interesting today.” Emerson stepped closer to the bed, her hands balled into fists at her sides and her whole body quivering with bottled-up rage. “I should have suspected as much, but I didn’t think even
you
were capable of sinking that low.”

“Darling, what in the world are you talking about?”

“You’re
the reason Reggie’s being deported, aren’t you? You made up those lies about him.”

Marjorie went a shade paler, but other than that she remained the picture of innocence. “Honestly, I have no idea what this is all about. Whoever told you that must be confused.”

Emerson gave a harsh laugh. “That’s another thing. How dare you make my daughter keep your dirty little secret? For God’s sake’s, Mother, she’s
seven.
You ought to be ashamed.”

“You’re one to talk.” Marjorie dropped the pretense, arching a penciled-in brow in derision.

“What do you mean by that?”

“All that sneaking around behind my back. You think I didn’t know?”

“What business was it of yours?”

“I should think you’d at least have had the decency—”

“Decency?” Emerson said, cutting her off. “Don’t talk to me about decency! You don’t know the meaning of it.”

“No need to raise your voice. I might be dying, but there’s nothing wrong with my hearing.”

Emerson might have fallen for that trick in the past—Marjorie in her dying-swan mode—but no more. She was done handling her mother with kid gloves. “God, I can’t believe what an idiot I was! All this time I’ve been waiting on you hand and foot, you’ve been stabbing me in the back. No wonder you don’t have any friends left.”

Marjorie collapsed with a gasp into the mound of pillows at her back. “What an awful thing to say.” Emerson could see she was genuinely wounded.

But she was too angry to care. “Not that they were ever really your friends. Have you ever asked yourself why none of them ever visit anymore? Did it ever occur to you they were only interested in your social status?”

Twin spots of color appeared on Marjorie’s cheekbones, over which the skin was stretched so tightly it was almost transparent, like bone china webbed with age. Yet she still had enough of the Kroft backbone to eye Emerson haughtily and in her best Upper East Side lockjaw pronounce, “At least
I
don’t run around with the hired help.”

“Too bad. It might have done you some good,” Emerson said. “Your whole life you’ve been living in this bubble.” She gestured to take in the once grand room, painted in the pastel shades of a Fabergé egg, with its chipped gilt and frayed velvet. “You’re like the rest of them, you think all that matters is a pedigree. But you’re wrong, Mother. And you know something else? I think you’re jealous. You couldn’t stand it that I’d finally found someone who made me happy. It reminded you of everything you’d missed out on. That’s why you wrote that letter, isn’t it?”

“The only thing I did was save you from making a fool of yourself!” Marjorie hissed. Her eyes glittered in the pale death mask of her face. “Do you have any idea what it would have done to your reputation if it’d gotten out that you were…” She faltered.

“Sleeping with a black man?” Emerson finished for her.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “I can see it’s rubbed off on you already.”

“Or maybe I’m just sick of pretending to be someone I’m not. Sick of the lies, too. The truth is, you’re a nasty, selfish old lady who doesn’t know where her bread is buttered. If I didn’t have my
reputation
to think of,” she spat out, “I’d cut you off without a cent.”

“Are you threatening me?” Despite her haughty tone, Marjorie looked frightened.

Emerson let her mother sweat it out for a moment longer before she replied in a remote, businesslike voice, “You can relax, Mother. I’ll keep on paying the bills.” If she were to cut Marjorie off, it would only give her an excuse to play the grand dame of martyrs. “But from now on, you won’t be seeing me anymore. And that includes Ainsley.”

“You’d do that? Take away my only grandchild? You know I don’t have much time left…” Marjorie’s voice quavered.

“After what you did to Ainsley, you don’t deserve to see her,” Emerson said, growing indignant all over again. Was that why Ainsley had needed a therapist? she wondered. Because of the secret she’d been told to keep and the even more despicable lie behind it? “But don’t worry, we’ll be at your funeral. Your
friends
won’t suspect a thing.”