Immediate Family (23 page)

She glanced at her watch on the way out the door. If she phoned Reggie now, she might still catch him before he went out for the evening. And maybe, just maybe, it
wasn’t
too late for them. Suddenly she knew what she had to do. It was as if she’d been wandering around, lost in the wilderness, and the blast of fury she’d just unleashed had scorched a path clear.

“Where are you going?” Marjorie called after her plaintively.

“To do something I should have done a long time ago.” Emerson paused just long enough to give her mother a last look before quietly but firmly shutting the door behind her.

On her way home, she tried reaching Reggie on his cell phone, but there was no answer, so she called his aunt and uncle’s house. When the uncle informed her that Reggie was, in fact, at that very minute on his way to the airport, the shock of it slammed into her with the force of a blow. Oh, God. Why had she waited so long? Now she wouldn’t even have the chance to say good-bye.

Even so, she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t at least try, however remote the chance of reaching him in time. She got the flight information from Reggie’s uncle, and as soon as she’d hung up instructed the cabdriver to take her to JFK instead. Reggie’s flight was in less than an hour, and as they hurtled across town toward the Triborough Bridge, she prayed for a miracle on the order of the parting of the Red Sea.

But the Red Sea, it seemed, was a piece of cake compared to I-495, where traffic was bumper to bumper. “Isn’t there another route?” she called to the driver as they slowed to a crawl.

He shook his head, babbling something in broken English. Emerson had no choice but to sit back and stare helplessly out at the cars creeping along at a snail’s pace ahead. A call to the airline only confirmed her fears: Flight 172 to Frankfurt was scheduled to depart on time. “Damn,” she cursed under her breath as she hung up. The one time she could have used engine trouble or a fogged-in runway, everything was running like clockwork.

The traffic eased up when they hit the Grand Central Parkway, and she began to think that, with a little luck, she’d make it in time. Staring out the window at the illuminated billboards and road signs flashing by, she thought about all the time she’d wasted thus far. Had she ever really believed Reggie was a terrorist? Of course not. Concerns about Ainsley hadn’t been the reason she’d been reluctant to marry him, either. No, her main fear had been of rocking the boat. A lifetime of trying to please her mother had left her ill-equipped to buck the inexorable tide that was Marjorie Kroft Fitzgibbons. Typical of her that even when she’d found the strength to do so, she’d waited until it was too late. Now, with the clock ticking, she felt like a contestant on a game show, not knowing if her prize would be a rosy future or a lifetime of regrets.

And even if she got there in time, it wasn’t as if Reggie was going to just fall into her arms, saying all was forgiven. She’d all but accused him of being a terrorist. Would he ever trust her again?

She closed her eyes a moment and thought of the closeness they’d once shared. Two people who couldn’t be more unalike on the surface, who were the same under their skins. She recalled Reggie’s climbing into the Jacuzzi with her one time, how they’d giggled at the sight of their limbs, dark and pale, entwined beneath the sudsy surface. Afterward, they’d toweled each other dry, and Reggie had wiped the steam from the mirror so they could get a full view of themselves. Afterward they’d made love, right there on the rug still damp with their footprints. The memory brought a shudder of delight tinged with sorrow and she had to lean her forehead against the cool window glass until the heat in her cheeks abated.

After what seemed an eternity, they turned off the Van Wyck Expressway onto the airport access ramp. By the time they reached the international terminal, her nerves were so frayed she nearly jumped out while the cab was still moving. She shoved a wad of bills at the driver and raced for the curb, slaloming her way around piles of luggage and pushing her way through the revolving door into the terminal.

Inside, she scanned the electronic board listing gates and departure times. Flight 609 to Frankfurt was already boarding, she saw. Her heart keeping time with the pounding of her feet, she raced for the nearest white courtesy phone. Moments later she was stationed outside the security gate listening to his name being called out over the PA system and praying she wasn’t too late. Each passing minute was a small death as she scanned the passengers streaming past, in the hope of spying Reggie. After several more minutes, when he didn’t appear, flagging hope slipped over into despair. She pictured his plane taxiing down the runway, Reggie buckled into his seat, oblivious to her torment. Or had he simply chosen to ignore the page? Either way, she might never see him again, unless she decided to chase him all the way to Africa. Which would only have been an exercise in frustration, given the remote likelihood that he’d be allowed back into this country.

She was so overcome at the thought, she grew dizzy and had to lean back against the wall. She could already see what the rest of her life would look like, how every man she met would fall short of the mark. Why had she questioned him? She knew why, and that only made her more furious with herself.

She lingered nonetheless, until she was absolutely certain it was hopeless. When at last she turned to go, it was with a heart so heavy each step was like plowing her way through a snowdrift. She was trudging past the line of ticketed passengers that snaked toward the security gates when she heard a deep, masculine voice call out her name.

“Emerson!”

She whirled around and there he was, striding toward her with a backpack slung over one shoulder, tall and handsome in a blazer and button-down shirt amid a sea of hoodies and sweatpants and jeans, wearing a grin so dazzling it was like looking straight into the sun.

Reggie caught up to her, enveloping her in a crushing embrace and lifting her off her feet—not an easy feat given that she was almost as tall as he. When he set her back down, they were both grinning from ear to ear.

“I thought you’d left!” she cried breathlessly.

“I very nearly did,” he said. “When I heard my name, I was afraid it was the authorities coming to arrest me.”

“Why would they want to arrest you?”

“Perhaps for an act of terrorism I couldn’t recall having committed?” he speculated with a twinkle in his eye, causing her to blush.

“What kept you from getting on that plane?” she asked.

“I thought there was a possibility it might be you.”

“And you were willing to take that risk?”

“For you, yes.”

“So you’re not angry with me?”

“I was, at first. Perhaps not so much angry as hurt.” His expression turned serious.

“Is that why you didn’t return any of my calls?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he explained with a grave nod. “If there was no trust between us, how could it ever be as it was? What I didn’t count on was how hard it would be. I’ve spent every day of these past months wishing for a chance to put all this behind us. Now that you’re here…” His voice trailed off, and in that moment he looked sad.

He must think I’ve come to say good-bye,
she thought.

“Oh, Reggie. I’m sorry. I never should’ve questioned you, even for an instant,” she rushed to reassure him. “It was my mother. I just found out
she’s
the one who wrote that letter to the INS.”

Reggie eyed her in confusion. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Somehow she found out about us. She figured it was the only way to keep me from marrying you.”

“I see.” He nodded slowly, taking it in. “And what gave her the idea you intended to marry me?”

“She must have read my mind. I did…I do…want to marry you. That is, if
you
still want to,” Emerson said, eyeing him hopefully.

He shook his head, causing her heart to plummet. “Not if it’s for the wrong reasons.”

“You think I’d marry you just so you can get your green card? I may have almost broken a leg getting here, but I’m not
that
crazy.” She seized hold of his hands, gazing up at him. “What I want is to wake up every morning for the rest of my life next to the man I love.”

She saw a light come on in his eyes. “There’s still the matter of my legal status,” he reminded her.

“We can work all that out later. Once we’re married, they’ll have to give you your green card.”

He broke into a grin. “In that case, it had better be soon or the authorities
will
come after me.”

“What about tonight? If we rent a car and drive to Maryland, we won’t have to wait. We can get a license right away and have a justice of the peace marry us.”

“Only a foolish man would turn down such an offer,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and bending to kiss her on the lips, a kiss that said more than any wedding vows.

“I love you,” she murmured.

“Even though I have no money?”

“I wouldn’t care if all you had were the clothes on your back,” she assured him.

“Which, in fact, happens to be the case.” Reggie explained that the suitcase containing most of his belongings was on the plane. “So, you see, I am entirely at your mercy.”

“Well, then, we’d better hurry, because I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my hands off you,” she said, tucking her arm through his as they made their way to the escalator.

D
o you want me to take her?” Stevie asked somewhat hesitantly.

Franny, rummaging in the overflowing diaper bag slung over one shoulder while she held the baby cradled in the other arm, glanced up at her. “No, it’s okay,” she murmured distractedly. “Dammit, where did I put that thing…I know I packed it. There it is.” She straightened, brandishing a tube of ointment. “Cradle cap. It’s almost gone, but I wanted to be sure.”

“I never knew babies came with so much equipment,” Stevie said as she helped Franny unload her luggage off the baggage cart, which included a car seat and portable crib in addition to a large suitcase. The last time Franny had visited, all she’d brought was a single carry-on bag. “Did you have to reserve a special cargo hold for all this stuff?”

When Franny had phoned to let her know she was coming, Stevie had worried about her condo’s not being equipped for a baby, but it looked as if Franny had brought everything but the kitchen sink.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Franny rolled her eyes. “Try getting around on the subway with a stroller at rush hour. Or nursing in public without making some dirty old man’s day. Believe me, poopy diapers are the least of it.” But she sounded cheerful enough, despite the long trip.

Stevie strapped the car seat into the backseat of her Firebird while Franny nursed Ruth up front. It was hot out on the parking lot’s tarmac, and by the time Stevie had wrangled the last buckle into place, she was drenched with sweat. Franny lowered a drowsy Ruth into the car seat, and minutes later they were off, the air conditioner going full blast. Stevie felt as if she’d run a marathon and they hadn’t even made it out of the lot.

And yet…the thought of having a child of her own someday didn’t freak her out as it once had. Either she was mellowing with age or being around Ruth was having an effect on her. Not that she’d be shopping for maternity clothes anytime soon. Not with Ryan, at any rate. She felt a dull ache at the thought, knowing that the next time she ran into him and his girlfriend, she might very well be congratulating them on something other than an Oscar.

“So you’re really going through with it?” Stevie asked as she was merging onto the freeway. When Franny had told her that she was breaking up with Keith, it hadn’t made sense at the time. It was only after she’d thought it through that she’d realized it must have something to do with Jay. She’d first noticed it at the naming party, when the rabbi was saying the blessing, the way Franny and Jay had looked at each other, as if they were the only two people in the room. If Stevie had been paying closer attention then, she’d have known what anyone with eyes in their head could see: that they were in love.

Franny sighed, squinting against the glare as she dug around in her purse for her sunglasses. Even with the few extra pounds she had yet to lose and a stain that might have been spit-up on her blouse, she’d never looked more radiant. “I’m just not sure this is the right time for me to be thinking about getting married,” she said. “I just had a baby. That’s enough of a change without pulling up stakes and moving all the way to L.A.”

“So this has nothing to do with Jay?” Stevie darted her a look, taking note of the color rising in Franny’s cheeks.

“What gave you that idea?” Franny hedged, the color deepening.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Franny was quiet for a moment, as if contemplating her answer. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to make a big deal of it,” she said at last.

“Okay, I promise.”

“We had sex.”

“What?”
Stevie was so thunderstruck, she nearly drove the Firebird into the breakdown lane.

“It was just the one time,” Franny was quick to add. As if that made a difference.

Stevie shook her head, incredulous. “Wow. I can’t believe it. You and Jay.”

“We
did
have a baby together,” Franny reminded her.

“Donating sperm is one thing. This is something else altogether.”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Everything changed after I got pregnant. Then when Vivienne went away…” Franny let the rest of the sentence trail off.

“How long have you felt this way?” Stevie wanted to know.

“For a while, but we didn’t do anything about it until after he found out Viv cheated on him.”

“I gather it’s over between them.” Stevie knew as much from talking to Jay.

“That’s what
he
says. But they’ve been together a long time. Besides, you know Viv. She’s not used to losing.” Franny frowned, looking troubled as she stared out the window at the other cars zipping by.

“I thought she was going back to Paris.” Jay was staying at a hotel in the meantime.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Let’s say she does. Where does that leave you and Jay?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure.” Franny’s frown deepened. “Remember in
When Harry Met Sally
after they finally did it and couldn’t look each other in the eye? It was like that with us. The next day we didn’t know how to act around each other. We don’t know if we’re friends or lovers, or some weird in-between.”

“Isn’t it possible to be friends
and
lovers?” Stevie asked, thinking of her and Ryan.

“Maybe, if you start out that way. Also, there’s Ruth. That sort of complicates things.”

“How so?”

“I can’t help thinking none of this would’ve happened if it hadn’t been for her.”

“Who knows?” Stevie said. “Maybe you guys have been in love with each other all this time and just didn’t know it. What is love, anyway, except two people wanting to be together all the time?” Franny and Jay certainly fit that description.

“Maybe you’re right.” Franny sounded dubious.

“So how was it? The sex,” Stevie asked after a moment, when it became clear Franny wasn’t planning to say any more on the subject.

“Good,” Franny answered, sounding embarrassed. This from the same woman who hadn’t been able to stop talking about Keith.

“That’s it? Just
good.
I want details!”

Franny’s lips curved in a sly little cat smile. “Let’s just say he knows stuff he didn’t get out of the
Farmer’s Almanac.”

That was all Stevie could get out of her. After another failed attempt to satisfy her curiosity, she moved on to another topic. “So how’s the blushing bride?” she asked, in reference to Emerson.

“So far, it hasn’t been much of a honeymoon,” Franny said. “You heard about her mom?”

“Yeah, tough break.” Apparently when Marjorie learned of the elopement, she’d taken a turn for the worse and ended up in the hospital with a case of pneumonia. Now Emerson was faced with the impossible choice of forgiving the unforgivable…or turning her back on her dying mother.

“She’s still in intensive care. For a while there, they weren’t sure she was going to pull through.”

“Poor Em.” Stevie’s sympathies lay entirely with her friend. It was hard to feel sorry for Marjorie after the dirty trick she’d pulled. Still, these past months with Grant had taught the importance of having a relationship with one’s parent, even if that parent was less than perfect. “I wonder how she’ll feel after her mom goes. I know she’s pretty fed up with her right now, but still it’s her mother.”

“For her own sake, she needs to make peace,” Franny agreed. They’d exited off the freeway and were cruising along Santa Monica Boulevard. “Whatever’s eating you, it doesn’t end when you bury someone. If anything, it gets worse, because it’s too late to get it off your chest.”

“Was that how it was with your mom?” Stevie knew that Franny and her mother, though close, had often clashed. Probably because they were so much alike. Esther was a pistol, like Franny.

“In some ways. I mean, I loved her and all, but you couldn’t tell her anything. She always knew best. If I said I wasn’t hungry, she’d insist I eat. If I said I was hot, she’d tell me to button up. She did the same thing to Bobby. I used to think it was why he went crazy.” Franny gave a dry little chuckle. “I just hope I do a better job with Ruth.” She looked over her shoulder at the baby asleep in her car seat, her expression tender.

Stevie glanced in the rearview mirror. “From the looks of it, you’re doing just fine.”

“Talk to her in thirty years,” Franny said, with a laugh.

Franny phoned Keith as soon as she got to Stevie’s. Earlier, he’d been a bit taken aback when she’d told him she was staying at Stevie’s, until she’d explained that it was a lightning business trip—tomorrow she was having lunch with a producer who was interested in film rights for one of her author’s books—and that Stevie was babysitting. She arranged to meet him at his place afterward. The sooner she got this over with, the better. All day the thought of what lay ahead had been like a dry-swallowed aspirin stuck in her throat.

The following morning, after she’d showered and gotten dressed, she assembled everything Stevie would need for Ruth—Pampers, baby wipes, bottles, scalp ointment, and several changes of clothing. Watching her lay it all out, Stevie fretted aloud, “What do I do if she cries?”

“If she’s hungry, give her a bottle,” Franny instructed. The night before, Stevie had been horrified when Franny used a breast pump to express her milk, pronouncing it positively barbaric.

“What if that’s not it?” Stevie hadn’t been this nervous since doing her first on-air interview.

“You know how to change a diaper, don’t you?”

Stevie gave her a blank look.

“It’s not brain surgery.” Franny demonstrated, changing the still dry diaper she’d just put on Ruth. “If she’s still fussing after that, she might need to be burped.” She showed Stevie how to do that, too, but it did nothing to ease Stevie’s anxiety.

“What if I do it wrong?” she asked.

“She’ll survive. Babies are pretty indestructible.”

On the drive to Beverly Hills in Stevie’s borrowed Firebird, her thoughts turned to Jay. She couldn’t help worrying that he’d change his mind and go back to Vivienne. She knew how seductive Vivienne could be. After that long ago business with her ex-boyfriend, Brian, when Franny had cooled toward her, Vivienne had knocked herself out to work her way back into Franny’s good graces, calling regularly to ask for advice and bringing her thoughtful little gifts, even presenting her with a beautiful cashmere sweater on her birthday, until finally, Franny had come around. Jay would be even more susceptible. He was her husband, after all. And no matter what she’d done, he’d be inhuman not to have feelings for her.

Her lunch with Avery Freeman, from Greenlight Productions, took place in the Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel, where movie deals made over seared foie gras and Rémy Martin were a matter of course. Universal was keen on making the picture, he told her; it all hinged on whether they could line up a big name to star in it. Without that, Franny knew, the deal wouldn’t get off the ground. They discussed terms and the possibility of a movie tie-in. It was Franny’s first grown-up lunch since giving birth and she found herself enjoying it. It felt good to sit in a nice restaurant wearing a dress and high heels after schlubbing around in nothing but jeans and baggy sweatshirts stained with spit-up, discussing something other than Pampers versus Huggies and what worked best with diaper rash.

The mood ended as soon as she was back in the car. Would Keith be angry when she told him? she wondered on her way over to his place. Or would he pull on her heartstrings, causing her to weaken? It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, after all, just that she loved Jay more.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Sure, she’d known Jay longer, but it was more than that. Their friends were fond of joking that they’d been separated at birth, and it wasn’t far from the truth. Jay was her psychic twin. He understood her in a way even her own kin hadn’t. He knew that at parties, when she was at her most loquacious, it was because she was feeling insecure. He always took her hand whenever they were walking along a subway platform, for though she’d never voiced it, ever since her brother’s death she’d had nightmare visions of being sucked under the wheels of an oncoming train. Whenever she was at her bluest and the phone would ring, nine times out of ten it was Jay calling to cheer her up. And now there was an added wrinkle: the sex. Which had been incredible. She couldn’t even think about it now, or she wouldn’t be able to look Keith in the eye.

Yet as soon as she walked in through the front door, Franny was reminded all over again of why she’d fallen for him. On the kitchen counter that opened onto the living room was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, beside it a vase holding a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Her heart sank. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

“Nice touch,” she said, with a lightness that belied the knot in her stomach. “But isn’t it a little early to be celebrating? I don’t even know yet if I have a deal.”

“In that case, we’ll just celebrate the fact that you’re here,” he said, taking her in his arms. In the snug-fitting jeans he had on, with his shirtsleeves rolled up, he might have been a candidate for
People
’s sexiest bachelors. But he must have sensed something was wrong, for he drew back to eye her with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Sure, fine. I’m just a little jet-lagged,” Franny said. How could she do this with him gazing at her as if she was Nicole Kidman? Maybe it would be easier after she’d had some champagne, she thought, as he popped the cork and poured them each a glass. She wasn’t supposed to drink while she was nursing, but she supposed it wouldn’t hurt just this once.

She sank down next to him on the sofa, the invisible aspirin in her throat now the size of an Alka-Seltzer tablet. Eyeing the framed watercolor over the mantel that she’d given him for Christmas, she felt a wave of sadness. She’d bought it with an eye toward both of them enjoying it in the years to come. But looking at it now, it might have been a painting in a museum.

The first glass of champagne went down easily as they chatted about her meeting and the progress he was making on his book. She didn’t protest when he poured her another one. Before she knew it, they’d killed the entire bottle, and she was feeling decidedly lightheaded. When she finally got up the nerve to say why she was here, it came out, “Keith…there’s somethin’ I haf to tell you.”