tremulously, timidly, "was it an unforgivable sin?"
"No . . . an understandable act of love, I'd call it."
He held me, he kissed me, he stroked my back and began telling me his plans for our wedding. ". . . and Chris will give you away, and Carrie will be your bridesmaid. Chris was very hesitant and wouldn't meet my eyes when I discussed this with him. He said he thought you weren't mature enough to handle a complicated marriage like ours will be. I know it's not going to be easy for you, or for me. You'll be touring the world, dancing with young, handsome men. However, I'm looking forward to accompanying you on a few of those tours. 'lb be the husband of a prima ballerina will be inspiring, exciting. Why, I could even be your company doctor. Surely dancers need doctors on occasion?"
I went dead inside. "Paul," I began dully, "I can't marry you." Then, quite out of context, I went on, "You know, wasn't it stupid of Momma to hide our birth certificates inside the linings of our two suitcases? She didn't do too good a job and the linings ripped and I found them. Without my birth certificate I couldn't have applied for a passport, and I also needed that certificate to prove I was of age to apply for a marriage license. You see, several days before our company flew to London Julian and I had blood tests and our marriage ceremony was just a simple one, with Madame Zolta and the company dancers there, and even as I said my marriage vows, and swore fidelity to Julian . . . I was thinking of you, and Chris, and hating myself, and knowing I was
doing the wrong thing."
Paul didn't say anything. He reeled backward, then staggered over to fall upon a marble bench. For moments he just sat, and then his head drooped into his hands and hid his face.
I stood. He sat. He lost himself somewhere, while I waited for him to come back and rail at me. But his voice when it came was as soft as a whisper, "Come, sit beside me for a while. Hold my hand Give me time to realize it's all over between us." I did as he said and held his hand, while both of us stared up at the sky full of diamonds and dark clouds.
"I'll never hear your kind of music again without thinking of you. . . ."
"Paul, I'm sorry! I wish to God I'd have listened to my instinct that told me Amanda was lying. But the music was playing where I was too and you were far away, and Julian was there, pleading with me, telling me he loved and needed me, and I believed him, and convinced myself you didn't really love me. I can't bear to be without someone who loves me."
"I'm very happy he loves you," he said, then got up quickly and started for the house, his strides so long and fast I'd never catch up even if I ran. "Don't say another word! Leave me alone, Catherine! Don't follow me! You did the right thing--don't doubt that! I was an old fool, playing with a young one, and you don't have to tell me I should have known better--I already know that!"
Too Many Loves To Lose
. Gone as deaf and stony as one of Paul's marble statues, I sat on the veranda and stared up at the night sky that was turning stormy and black with clouds. Julian came out to sit beside me and in his embrace I began to softly cry. "Why?" he asked. "You do love me a little, don't you? Your doctor can't be really hurt; he was very kind to me, and told me to come out and comfort you."
It was then that Henny came out to signal with her lightning-fast signs that her doctor-son was packing for a trip and I was to stay here. "What's she saying to you?" asked Julian with annoyance. "Damn, it's like hearing someone talk in a foreign tongue. I feel so left out."
"Stay here and wait!" I ordered, then jumped up to race into the house and fly up the back stairs, then on into Paul's room where he was flinging his clothes into an open suitcase on his bed. "Look," I cried in distress, "there's no reason why you have to leave! This is your home. I'll go. I'll take Carrie with me, so you need never see my face again!" He turned to give me a long and bitter look as he went on putting shirts in his bag.
"Cathy, you've taken the wife I expected to have, and now you want to take away my daughter. Carrie is like my own flesh and blood, and she wouldn't fit into your kind of life. Let her stay with me and Henny. Let me have something to call my own. I'll be back before you go . . . and you should know that Julian's father is very, very ill."
"Georges is ill?"
"Yes. Perhaps you don't know that he's had kidney disease for several years, and has been on a dialysis machine for months. I don't think he'll live much longer. He's not my patient, but I stop in to visit him as often as I can, more or less to hear about you and Julian. Now will you please get out, Cathy, and not force me to say things I'd regret."
I cried face down on my bed until Henny came into my room.
Strong, motherly, dark hands patted my back. Henny's misting, liquid brown eyes spoke when her tongue couldn't. She talked to me with her gestures, and then took from her apron pocket a clipping from the local newspaper. An announcement of my marriage to Julian! "Henny," I wailed, "what am I going to do? I'm married to Julian, and I can't demand a divorce; he depends on me, believes in me!"
Henny shrugged her broad shoulders, expressing that people were as complex to her as they were to me. Then quickly she signaled, "Big sister always been big trouble maker. One man already hurt, no good hurting two. Doctor good man, strong man, will survive disappointment, but young dancing man might not. Wipe away tears, cry no more, put on big smile and go downstairs and take hand of new husband. For everything work out for the best. You see."
I did as Henny directed, and joined Julian in the living room, and there I told him about his father being in the hospital, and not expected to live. His pale face went even whiter. Nervously he chewed on his lower lip. "It's really that serious?"
It had been my opinion that Julian didn't care much for his father, so I was surprised to see his reaction. At that moment Paul came into the living room with his suitcase and offered to drive us to the hospital. "And remember, my house has plenty of rooms, and there is no reason at all why the two of you should even consider a hotel. Stay as long as you like. be back in a few days."
He backed his car out of the garage so Julian and I could join him on the front seat. Hardly a word was said until he let us out in front of the hospital, and sadly I hesitated before the steps, watching Paul drive away into the night.
They had Georges in a private room, and with him was Madame Marisha. When I saw Georges in the bed, I drew in my breath! Oh! To be like that! He was so thin he seemed already dead. His face had a grayish pallor, and every bone he had jutted forward to make jagged peaks beneath the thin skin Madame M. was crouched at his side, staring down into his gaunt face pleading with her eyes, commanding him to hold on and live! "My love, my love, my love," she crooned as to a baby, "do not go, do not leave me alone. We have so much to do yet, to experience yet. . . . Our son has to reach fame before you die. . . . Hold on, my love, hold on."
Only then did Madame Marisha glance up to see us there, and with her same old authority she snapped, "Well, Julian. You did finally come! And after all the cables I sent you! What did you do, tear them up and dance on, as if nothing matters?"
I blanched, very surprised, and looked from him to Madame. "My dear mother," he said coldly, "we were on tour, you know that. We had engagements and contracts, so my wife and I kept our
commitments."
"You heartless brute!" she snarled, then gestured for him to come closer. "Now you say something kind and loving to that man on the bed," she hissed in a whisper, "or so help me God I'll make you wish you were never born!"
Julian had a great deal of trouble making the effort to approach the bed, so much so I had to give him a shove, while his mother sobbed into a handful of pink tissues. "Hello, Father," was all he could manage, along with, "I'm sorry you are so ill." Quickly he came back to me, and held me hard against him I felt his whole body trembling.
"See, my love, my sweetheart, my darling," crooned Madame Marisha again, once more bending above her husband and smoothing back his damp, dark hair. "Open your dear eyes and see who has flown thousands of miles to be at your side. Your own Julian and his wife. All the way from London they flew the moment they knew you were so sick. Open your eyes, my heart, see him again, see them together, such a beautiful pair of newlyweds--please open your eyes, please look."