Native Affairs (83 page)

“What you need, young lady, is a good shot of brandy,” Joe said, going to get it.

“She’s pregnant, Joe, remember? There’s some herbal tea in the kitchen, would you put the kettle on to boil?” Joe left the room and as he did Joan turned to Aim and said, “What are you going to do?”

“I was planning to catch the next flight to New York and go back to my old apartment. But I only got this far and came here. I couldn’t seem to drive any farther.”

“We’re glad you did, honey. You certainly shouldn’t be wandering around at this late hour in your present state of mind,” Joan said.

Ann let her head fall wearily to the back of the sofa. “I thought Heath and I were past all of our troubles but I guess I was wrong,” she said dispiritedly.

“He should have told you about the vasectomy,” Joan said. “He must have known you wanted children.”

“Well, we got married under rather unusual circumstances, ” Ann replied.

“I thought it was kind of sudden,” Joan said cautiously.

Ann sighed. “I guess I’d better tell you all of it. It might make all of this drama a little more understandable. I’m sure you must think Heath and I are both certifiable by now.”

Joan waited.

“Heath blackmailed me into marrying him,” Ann said. “My brother was in horrendous trouble as a result of a gambling habit, ScriptSoft was bankrupt, and everybody in the world was suing Tim. He was about to be prosecuted and stood to go to jail. Heath said he would bail Tim out of the mess if I married him.”

“Why did he want that?”

“Revenge.”

“Revenge?” Joan said.

“We had planned to run away together that summer we were in love. I pulled out of the plan at the last minute, left Heath waiting for me. He thought it was because I couldn’t give up the high life I enjoyed as the Talbot ingenue.”

“But that wasn’t it?”

“No. My father found out about our plans and said he would have Heath arrested for statutory rape unless I left town and never saw him again.”

Joan gasped. “Did you tell Heath this?”

“Yes. But he didn’t believe me until the story was confirmed by a retired cop who was on the force at the time. The cop knew that my father had investigated bringing charges against Heath.”

“It sounds like your husband doesn’t have much faith in you,” Joan said softly.

“You’re right, and that’s the root cause of our problems. He just can’t trust me. Maybe he can’t trust any woman. His mother abandoned the family. What happened between us when we were teenagers didn’t help, even if the damage I did was unintentional. But it seems he just can’t get past it.”

Joan nodded somberly.

“He reads the papers, he watches the news,” Ann said, gesturing vaguely. “He must know that vasectomies aren’t always foolproof. I’m sure his doctor told him that at the time he had his. But he leapt to the conclusion that I had been unfaithful, because it’s what some part of him wants to believe. I’m tired of trying to overcome that presumption of guilt every day of my life. If something inside him has to spoil our happiness, then he will have to live alone.”

“Why would a young, healthy man have a vasectomy?” Joan wondered aloud.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all the reports about alcoholism being genetic, that scientists can create alcoholic mice in the laboratory through selective breeding,” Ann said. “Heath’s experience with his father was so awful that he didn’t want to pass the tendency on to his children.”

“And at the time he had this done, you were out of his life, right? I’m sure he couldn’t picture a future that would include children,” Joan said.

Ann shrugged. “I don’t think he was considering anything then but making money and getting ahead in the world.”

“Here’s your tea,” Joe said, rejoining them and handing Ann a cup, which she accepted gratefully.

“Joe, did you know about this blackmail business when Heath and Ann got married?” his wife demanded of him sharply, her dark eyes narrowed.

“Sort of,” Joe replied, looking sheepish.

“What does that mean?” Joan said.

“He told me about it at Christmas. I didn’t know it before they got married.”

“And you never said a word to me?” Joan asked, amazed at the idea.

“Heath made it clear that it was his business,” Joe said, shrugging.

“I feel kind of awkward accepting your hospitality,” Ann interjected, interrupting them as she took a sip of the tea. “After all, you were Heath’s friends first and here I am telling you all these terrible things about him.”

“We’re your friends, too,” Joan said swiftly. “And you’re not saying anything we didn’t suspect for a long time. It was plain that Heath didn’t trust women—his relationships were always brief and very surface. That’s why we were elated when he married you but we didn’t realize the complicated subtext involved. All we knew was that you’d been an item as kids and were now reunited.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to give you all the lurid details,” Ann said dryly. “Though, of course, you wound up hearing them anyway.”

“You’re staying here tonight and no excuses,” Joan said briskly. “I’ll make up the guest room bed and in the morning, if you still want to go to New York, Joe will drive you to the airport. You can leave that article of conspicuous consumption at the curb and Heath can pick it up anytime. I don’t know if I’ll be able to speak to him when he does but that’s another issue.”

“Don’t blame him,” Ann said. “We’re both responsible for this disaster—Heath for his inability to trust me, and me for my naivete in thinking that we could wipe out all the damage of the past and start fresh. The past affects the present. It will always be there, like a shadow.”

“You look exhausted,” Joan said. “Just give me a minute to get fresh sheets on the bed and we’ll be in business.” Joan left the room and Joe shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“It’s really a pity about you two,” Joe finally said quietly. “It’s obvious you’re crazy about each other.”

“Sometimes that isn’t enough,” Ann replied.

“It should be.”

“In a perfect world,” Ann said dejectedly.

“Are you going to divorce him?” Joe asked.

Ann’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t think about anything except getting out of there tonight.”

“Don’t be hasty. Take some time to consider it.”

“Joe, I know how much you care for Heath, but he’s a better friend than he is a husband,” Ann said flatly.

“I can understand that,” Joe said. “He’s very... volatile. It’s just that where business matters are concerned he will usually listen to my advice.”

“I only wish I could say the same about his personal life,” Ann replied.

Joan returned with a blanket folded in her arms. “All set,” she said.

Ann rose and followed her into the hall.

* * * *

Heath paced the floor in his bathrobe, unable to leave the bedroom or to stop walking up and down restlessly. Ann was gone and every impulse he possessed urged him to go after her. But he remained where he was, stymied not by stubbornness but by an awareness of what he had done.

He had ruined it. Over the past couple of months Ann had gradually begun to relax and believe that they could work out their problems, forget the brutal beginning to their reunion and the legacy of their former lives. But he had blasted it all into smithereens with just a few cruel words, and he had the sinking feeling that this time he would not be able to patch everything together.

He had gone too far.

Heath slid back the door to the patio and stood out on the flagstones, looking up at the stars. They began to blur and he had to glance away.

He didn’t really believe that Ann had been unfaithful to him, no more than he had believed that she’d been flirting with Ben Rowell at their Christmas party. But something in him made him want to rend and tear what was good, smash it and break it and stomp it in to bits. Did he still think he wasn’t good enough for Henry Talbot’s daughter? Or was it that the thought of children terrified him, their neediness and total dependence, the idea that he might be as bad a father as his own father had been? He should have told Ann that, of course, instead of making stupid accusations, but admission of weakness was not in his makeup. He had pulled out of Hispaniola through toughness and determination, never letting anyone see a weak spot in his iron facade. It was too difficult to change for one new person, even if that person was Ann. His habits were fixed.

Heath sat on a redwood bench and stared at the ground, remembering the look on her face when he’d said the baby could not be his. Of course he knew that her pregnancy was possible, he had been told as much when he’d had the operation. But instead of accepting her version of events he’d had to say the most damning thing he could think of and drive her out of the house.

Why was he so destructive?

He stood again, wondering where she had gone. She had the car and a wallet full of credit cards she rarely used. But she might find a purpose for them now. She could go anywhere in the world and he would have to hire a posse to find her.

And she was carrying his child.

The phone in the bedroom rang shrilly, startling him out of his reverie. He dashed for it, slipping on the rug, and grabbed it on the second ring.

“Annie?” he said.

“No, but she’s here,” Joan replied icily.

“Joan?”

“Yup.”

“She’s at your house?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right over,” Heath said.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Joan said.

“Why not?”

“She’s asleep now and I think you should let her rest. She was very upset and I don’t imagine waking up and seeing you is going to help her calm down, do you?”

There was a frosty tone in Joan’s usually friendly voice that Heath didn’t mistake.

“Then I’ll talk to her in the morning,” Heath said.

“I can’t promise that she’ll be here.”

“Keep her there.”

“I’ll do no such thing, Heath. She’s a grown woman and can do as she pleases, and what she pleases right now is to get far away from you.”

“Joan, she’s pregnant.”

“Yes, I know, and I hear the child’s paternity is in doubt,” Joan said sarcastically.

“Joan, this is between Ann and me.”

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not since you drove her away and she wound up on my doorstep. I don’t know why I’m even letting you know where she is. Joe said not to bother calling you but I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

“Heath, I can’t prevent you from doing that but I would advise against it. I think Ann needs time.”

Heath hesitated. So far he had done exactly what he wanted, and where had it gotten him? Maybe he should listen to someone else for a change.

“I’ll call, then.”

“All right,” Joan said.

“And, Joanie? Thanks.”

Joan hung up without replying.

* * * *

Heath called the Jensen house at seven the next morning, after a sleepless night.

“Let me talk to Ann,” He said to Joe, who answered.

“I’m sorry, Heath. She’s gone. About an hour ago,” Joe said.

* * * *

Ann’s apartment was just as she’d left it. Almost. The neighbor who’d sent her things to Florida had been watering her plants, but there was a thin film of dust on all the furniture and the place had a closed up, musty smell that made her nose twitch reflexively. She flung the windows wide, despite the frosty February temperatures. She spent the first day in therapeutic cleaning—dusting and polishing furiously to forget her troubles while a gray sleet fell outside, covering the streets of Greenwich Milage with slush.

It didn’t work. Twice she broke down crying as she was scrubbing the bathroom tile, a chore she had not missed while Daniela was doing it in Florida. But there was something satisfying about taking out her anger on soap scum and graying grout. When every surface in the four rooms was spotless and shining, she took a long shower and then made an appointment with the Fifth Avenue gynecologist she’d been seeing for years.

No amount of misery was going to make her neglect the health of this baby.

When there was no more cleaning left to do, Ann sat at her computer and tried to work. But the bulk of the book was on the hard drive in Florida and she kept forgetting references until she gave up in frustration. She would ask Daniela to send her what she needed and maybe that would help.

For the moment her muse had deserted her.

Disgusted and weary, Ann lay down on her bed to take a nap, telling herself that the desire for sleep was not depression but the instinct to take care of the baby.

Her phone started to ring as her head slipped to the pillow. It rang twenty times, until she lifted the receiver and let it drop back into the cradle. Then it began to ring again.

Ann unplugged it and threw the instrument into the bottom of her closet.

Then she went back to bed.

* * * *