Seasons of the Heart (34 page)

“No, May. I guess you may as well know. Mom and Dad are getting a divorce.” Evie’s voice quivered on the word.

“Oh, honey—I’m sorry.” May was silent for a moment. “Well, that’s really too bad. But still, Evie, we’ve got a business to run and your mother is the only one with the authority to make certain decisions. She’s just going to have to pull herself together and see me.”

“May, she’s just not able to do that, at least not yet.”

“Well, honey, I’m sorry to say it’s not a question of able. She has to, and that’s all there is to it. Deadlines are deadlines, no matter what is happening in your personal life.”

Evie knew that May spoke from experience. Her husband had died an alcoholic and her son had died of an overdose at age eighteen. Still, loyalty to her mother made Evie say, “May, she’s just going to need a little more time.”

“She doesn’t have it,” May said tartly. “And what about you, young lady? What are you doing hanging around the house? Aren’t you supposed to be enrolled at Berkeley?”

“Oh, I’m still going,” Evie said. “I’m commuting for the time being.”

“What time do you have to be there, for goodness sake?”

“Eight in the morning.”

“But that means you must be getting up before six! That’s just plain ridiculous! And you sound mighty tired. Now listen to me, Evie Coulter. You head right on back to school and leave your mama to me. Tell her that I expect to hear from her this morning, without fail.”

May’s message was relayed in edited form to Ann, but all Ann said was, “The office? Just tell May to do the best she can.”

A contrite Evie was on her way to a lecture when the Coulters’ bell rang to announce May’s arrival.

“Hello, Consuela. Now, don’t you try and stop me. Where is she?”

Consuela had reached the point where any help was welcome. Stepping aside, she said, “Upstairs in her bedroom.”

May marched up like an avenging angel. She had known Ann Coulter a long time. They had opened the business together, slaved over figures late into the night, held each other’s hands in difficult times. Ann had helped her go on living when her son died, and now May was going to help Ann whether she liked it or not.

When May first entered the room, she couldn’t believe that the thin, gray-faced woman lying so still under the bedcovers was the vital Ann Coulter she knew, but May hadn’t grown up in Missouri for nothing. She launched her attack without preamble.

“All right, Ann. Just what the hell are you doing in that bed in the middle of the afternoon? You’re not sick, so don’t try and pretend. What in the hell has happened to you? Where’s the woman who thought she could take this city with one hand tied behind her—and did?

“Now you listen to me. I know how hard it is to lose a husband. But it’s not the end of the world. You’re not the only woman in this universe who’s gotten divorced. Where’s your gumption, Ann Coulter?”

As May took a breath, Ann said miserably, “But, May, you don’t understand! It’s awful … I’m a failure.”

“A failure? It’s not a failure when two people who don’t belong together get a divorce. So you fell on your face. Big deal. Get back up on your feet.”

“But, May, Phillip would never have taken up with another woman if I hadn’t driven him away.”

“Ann, do you really and truly think that the only reason you and Phillip split up is another woman? Let me tell you something, as an outside observer. Phillip is a nice guy, Ann, but the two of you are from two different planets. He stayed behind while you forged ahead. It’s not a question of balance. You’re just two people who are wrong for each other.”

“But, May, I love him!”

“Stop saying ‘But, May.’ Of course you do. You can’t throw away twenty-five years of marriage in a day. But at least you’re still young. Be thankful you aren’t like me! I hung on with Al until it was too late for me. It was only a year or two after I divorced him that he got to be so sick that I ended up nursing him until he died. You’ve got your health, plenty of money, and a daughter who loves you. You’re lucky to have Evie. I’d give anything in the world to have my Jack back again.”

Fiercely, she blinked back the tears which had sprung to her eyes at the thought of her dead son. “Now we’re going to get you out of that bed, get some food into you, and see if things don’t look a bit brighter. And next week, after we get caught up at the office, you’re going to take a plane to New York, because you have one gorgeous guy waiting for you there. None of this is going to seem quite so bleak when he holds you in his arms.”

Startled, Ann sat up, heart pounding. “What do you mean, May?” she asked slowly. She had never told anyone.

“What do you think I mean? I mean Adam Gayne, of course. Or did you think it was a deep, dark secret how you felt about him? He must really be pretty special for you to eat your heart out over him all this time. Well, now you have your chance.”

Without further ado, May reached over and threw back the covers. “Now, out of that bed, kiddo!” She marched into the bathroom, turned on the tub. Once she saw that Ann was safely luxuriating in the warm water, she searched the bedroom for every pill she could find—the barbiturates, the tranquilizers, even aspirin. Ignoring Ann’s protests, she flushed them all down the toilet and tossed Ann’s faded housecoat into the hamper.

Then she opened the door and called out, “Consuela, you go fix a mess of scrambled eggs and bacon, and lots of hot coffee. We’re going to have a party.”

By evening’s end, Ann was indeed seeing things differently. May had made her realize that she wasn’t a failure and that she hadn’t driven Phillip away. And there was Adam, who had wanted to marry her. Ann felt a stab of fear at the thought of seeing him. All the time she had been in New York and Florida, she had braced herself for a confrontation, but he had scrupulously confined their dealings to the phone, sending one associate or another to the endless meetings.

Would he see her now or was he still too angry? Even worse, perhaps he no longer cared. She thought of calling him, but was afraid he might hang up. Face to face, she would have a better chance of making him understand. He could hardly slam the door on her.

“Consuela, I’m going to New York this week,” she said. “Will you call Mr. Coulter tomorrow and tell him I have to go away on business and that I’m feeling much better?”

That night, when Evie came back from Berkeley, Ann and Evie sat up late after dinner, talking.

“Honey,” Ann said, “I want to apologize to you for the way I’ve been indulging myself, lying around wallowing in self-pity. You’ve been wonderful about taking care of me, but I’m much better now. May was right. Going back to the office has taken my mind off things. Now it’s time for you to move back into the sorority house and stop worrying about your old mother. I’m even going to make a quick trip to New York. I’ve got a lot to catch up on with the syndication.” She got up and hugged Evie, who could feel the renewed strength in her mother’s arms. Ann looked alive and happy once again.

At first, Evie hoped that her father had had something to do with the change, but as it became apparent that no such miracle had happened, a wave of fear and misgivings swept over her. If her mother was accepting the divorce, it truly was final. Evie cried herself to sleep, and in the morning could barely control her tears as she said goodbye. Driving back to Berkeley, she felt as if she were going into exile.

Early Friday evening, May drove Ann to the airport. Just before boarding, Ann hugged her friend, saying, “My God—how did I ever get so lucky as to have someone like you?”

“That goes both ways, kiddo.”

May hid her mild envy. Not everyone had an Adam Gayne to go to.

W
HEN ANN CHECKED INTO
the Plaza, she found that the management had sent her a huge basket of fruit, and May had sent champagne. The card read: “It’s only begun—make the most of it, baby. Love, May.”

In the morning, Ann put on her white suit and spent nearly an hour fussing over her hair and makeup. She knew that Adam was in town because she had checked with his office, using an associate’s name.

She took a cab to his building and sat trembling in the waiting room as the receptionist announced her.

Adam was shaken when he heard her name. “She’ll have to wait a few minutes,” he told the receptionist. He needed time to pull himself together.

Ann. Ann Coulter. The thought of seeing her made his chest tighten. As the shock of hearing her name wore in, that shock turned to anger. How the hell could she show up now, just when he’d finally come to accept his life without her? Did she have any idea how much he had suffered, and all because of her? Did she know what he’d been going through? Did she care? All last summer, he’d avoided her. He’d sent Jeff Cohen to Florida in his place just so he wouldn’t have to see her. He couldn’t. Not on her terms. Yet here she was, on his doorstep. She must be more heartless than he’d ever imagined if she could come back now after leaving without a word.

Adam went to the bar and poured himself a double scotch, which he then downed in a single gulp. He never drank in the middle of the day, but he really needed this one. He had to contain himself, and his fury. He had no idea why Ann had come to see him. Well, he’d just calmly hear her out, and then tell her exactly what he thought of her—which was something he’d been wanting to do for a while.

Out in the waiting area, Ann was as anxious as Adam was angry. Even after the receptionist told her that he would see her, she stood for a long contemplating moment with her hand poised on the knob and swallowed very hard. Now that she was finally here, she scarcely knew how she would handle it. Almost trembling, she took a deep breath and walked in.

Adam was seated at his desk, reviewing what looked to be some sort of legal brief. He didn’t look up at her when she came in. Did he hate her? Had he already found somebody new? His eyes were like Arctic wastes. Ann stood in the middle of his office for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he looked up. “Please have a seat, Mrs. Coulter.” His icy tone sent a chill down Ann’s spine. Could he really have so little feeling for her?

“Adam, please don’t be angry,” she blurted out.

“Don’t be angry? Angry? I’ve just gotten over you and now you show up as though nothing had happened.” His voice was ragged. “What’s the matter, Ann? Is life getting a little too dull out in San Francisco?” This was not what he’d meant to say, not how he’d meant to come across, but he was just too furious to say anything except exactly what he thought.

In spite of his fury, Ann felt a surge of hope. Surely he wouldn’t be this angry if he didn’t still care.

“Well, am I right?” he demanded harshly.

“No, Adam. That’s not why I’m here—”

“Why, then? A little shopping spree, perhaps? Saks is uptown aways, you know.”

On the verge of tears, Ann said, “Adam, I know that you’re angry, and I suppose you have every reason to be.”

“Oh, I do? Well now, that’s mighty big of you, Ann. But I’m not in the mood to play games.”

“I’m getting a divorce.”

Adam froze. When he finally regained his composure, he told his receptionist to hold all calls, and without another word he rose from his desk and took her into his arms. They stood holding each other for several minutes. Then he pressed the intercom again. “Do I have anyone coming in for the rest of the day? Just my lunch date? Please cancel it and say I’ve been called away. I’m afraid I won’t be available until tomorrow.”

He took Ann’s hand and they went down the elevator to the street, where they caught a taxi to Adam’s apartment. A few blocks before they got there, Ann asked, “Can we walk the rest of the way? It’s just beginning to snow.”

“Of course,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling.

Adam took her elbow as they emerged into a swirl of large, soft flakes. Ann’s high heels were totally ill-suited to the wet sidewalk. Each time she slipped, Adam used it as an excuse to pull her close to him. She was dizzy with excitement when they finally reached his building and took the elevator to his penthouse. After opening his door, Adam suddenly swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold.

The apartment was very still. Kissing her gently, Adam put her down. “You’re all snowy.”

Almost breathlessly, she answered, “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

Helping her off with her coat, he hung it next to his own in the closet. Ann’s hair was dripping.

“Let me get you a towel.” With infinite gentleness, he dried her face and rubbed her hair.

“It’s Gaston’s day off,” he murmured. “Luckily we’re all alone.”

Adam took her face between his hands and lifted it upward. Their lips met. Ann felt a quiver of joy run through her body. For a long moment, she neither thought nor spoke. She only felt.

Instinctively, her arms reached around Adam’s neck, drawing him to her. With an inarticulate sound, he again covered her mouth with his own, gently parting her lips and insistently exploring her mouth with his tongue.

As she ran her fingers through his hair, she felt his hands travel hungrily down her back, burning through the thin silk of her blouse. Slowly, he unbuttoned it, cupping her full breasts. She loosened his belt, feeling him tremble in response. Never had he wanted a woman so desperately.

Ann, too, could wait ho longer. She wanted him to make love to her, needed his thrusting strength inside her.

Unable to postpone the joy a minute longer, they pulled off their clothes and lay on the bed.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

Every nerve in her body thrilled to his touch. As he entered her, she knew that there would never be anyone in the world for her except Adam.

For a long time afterward they lay in each others’ arms. Then he began making love to her again. It was less urgent than before, and this time they whispered all the sweet things that lovers say.

Eventually they fell into a contented slumber, and when some hours later Ann opened her eyes, it was to find herself pressed against Adam’s body.

A slow smile curved his lips. “Hi, sleepyhead. How are you?”

“Wonderful,” Ann said, tears starting to her eyes at the loving note in his voice. “Just—wonderful.”