Untold Sorrow

Just Say One Word

The next morning at breakfast Matthew apologized for his behavior the night before. He looked haggard and worn, his face drawn, the lines around his eyes deeper, as though he had passed a sleepless night.

'I don't know what got into me,' he said just as he was leaving the table. He smiled down at her bleakly. 'You'll have to admit I usually am able to exercise more control over my emotions.

Jennifer sat and stared down at her plate. as was her habit, she had appeared at the breakfast table fully dressed and was wearing a tailored cotton shirtwaist dress, her short hair neatly combed, a dash of pale lipstick on her mouth. She and Matthew had never arrived at a state of casual undress around each other, even on the mornings after their lovemaking.

If only he hadn't left me those nights, she groaned now to herself, we might have had a chance. Now it was too late. She had slept badly herself, torn between the thought that she had been a fool to give up hope and the conviction that she simply was incapable of going on the way they had been.

'It's all right,' she said in a muffled voice. 'It was partially my fault. I handled the whole thing badly.'

She knew he was watching her, but she still couldn't face him. After a long pause, he went on in a stiff, formal tone.

'I still don't pretend to understand what's behind this sudden decision of yours, but I do recall clearly assuring you from the beginning that you could back out at any time. I want you to know I intend to honor that promise.'

Finally, she looked up at him, and her heart choked in her throat at the weary look on his face. 'What do you want to do?' she asked

He shrugged. 'Nothing. Go on as we were before. ..' His voice trailed off, and he turned to go. 'I'll be late tonight,' he said in a brisker tone as he walked towards the front door. 'Martin said last night that everyone in New York is anxious for a report on the Palestine trip. Don't wait for dinner for me.'

when he was gone, Jennifer sat for a long time at the breakfast table, crumbling her toast and drinking cup after cup of bitter coffee. She knew there was no use going over and over the same ground. She had made her decision, done the only thing she could.

It will be alright, she thought, as she walked slowly into her room to get started on her latest commission. It will have to be.

Summer began to fade into autumn, and by the end of September, the leaves on grounds were turning, spreading a canopy of gold over the city streets and parks. There was an autumn nip in the air now, and the morning fogs began to roll in, damp and chill.

Jennifer and Matthew had managed to resume their old life, but it would never really be the same again, she thought from time to time, but it was a tolerable existence, better certainly than the walking death her life had been after Richard died and before she met Matthew.

After their last talk that morning a month ago, the subject had never been mentioned again. True to his word, Matthew not only stayed out of her bedroom but had given up showing her any of the small signs of affection she had come to enjoy. He never touched her at all, now, unless it was unavoidable, and then only politely, as a gesture of courtesy.

She missed this dreadfully, and it crossed her mind many times that she'd been a fool to throw away the little bit of affection and passion Matthew was able to give her. She found herself often on the verge of telling him she'd changed her mind again and wanted him, wanted his child, on any terms.

Then, without planning it, she would pass by his bedroom again, as if drawn there by an invisible magnet and see the photograph of Beth still there on his bedside table in its place of honor, and she strengthened her resolve to keep Matthew out of her heart.

This was difficult to do. Even though they lived like virtual strangers, whenever they were together she would find herself staring at him at a crowded social gathering, watching his mouth as he smiled or spoke to someone, the graceful way he moved across a room or held a drink, hearing his deep voice raised in laughter at a joke.

She tried also to steel herself against the tormenting pangs of jealousy that assailed her when she saw him dancing or talking with other women! She couldn't bear to see the way his eyes lit up and the firm mouth softened when a beautiful woman put a hand on his arm as she spoke to him, or around his neck while dancing with him.

By now the fall social season in New York was in full swing, with Margaret, of course, in the vanguard. One of her first forays into action was to hold a dinner dance at the hotel in honor of a freshman senator from California. She had rented one of the smaller dining rooms for the occasion and had kept her plans for decoration a mysterious secret.

Of course, she insisted that Matthew and Jennifer attend, and on that Saturday night they dutifully presented themselves at the appointed hour. They stepped into a room decorated in a modified disco fashion. The pop band was blaring in the already crowded room, and a brilliant strobe lamp flashed swiftly changing colors over the dancers and the band.

'How do you like it?' Margaret cried when she greeted them.

'It's-overwhelming,' Jennifer said dubiously, glancing around in dismay. The music was deafening.

Isn't it wonderful?' Margaret was clearly pleased with the sensation she was causing. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. 'It's only for immediate effect. Shock value. I've arranged with the band to tone it down to our usual speed as soon as everyone loosens up.'

She had arranged the tables so that a small circular area next to the bandstand was cleared for dancing, and a few hardy couples were out there now attempting the modern dance steps to the pounding beat of the rock music.

There were brightly colored placemats on the tables and little flickering lamps in odd plastic shapes. A buffet was set up at the far end of the room next to the bar, where champagne, martinis, and scotch were dispensed freely by a bored-looking bartender in a white coat.

As they followed Margaret to their table, Jennifer saw several familiar faces. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, she thought, as she smiled and waved at the people she knew. Lara Jones was there with the senator from California in tow. And David was on the dance with a young Congresswoman from Georgia.

'Just do your own thing,' Margaret said as she pointed out their table. 'This is a loose party. Eat when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty, and dance when the spirit moves you.'

With that, she fluttered off into the crowd to greet the latest arrivals.

William was sitting stiffly at the table, red-faced and uncomfortable. 'Well,' he said miserably as they joined him, 'what do you think of your sister's latest escapade?'

Poor William, Jennifer thought. He had a lot to contend with. 'It's interesting,' she hedged, glancing around at the crowd.

'I think you can trust Margaret,' Matthew said unexpectedly. 'She knows what she's doing.'

William sighed and shook his head. 'I don't know: It's those boys of ours. Told us we were so far behind the times we were growing mold. Margaret takes as gospel every word they utter. Says we've got to keep up with the Times.'

Taking her cue from Matthew, Jennifer put a hand on William's arm and said, 'You just wait, William. Soon every society hostess in the city will be putting on disco parties. Margaret is a pacesetter, not a follower. You know that.'

William brightened. 'Do you really think so?' Happily, he Rose and followed Matthew to the bar for drinks.

While they were gone, Margaret came back to the table with Lara and Senator Dylan, the guest of honor. She introduced the senator to Jennifer, and when William and Matthew returned with a bottle of champagne and six glasses, they all sat down and tried to carry on a conversation over the blaring music.

Jennifer gave up after a few abortive attempts and leaned back in her chair, sipping champagne and watching the others. Lara was sitting across the table between Matthew and Senator Dylan, a tall blond god who looked as though he had spent his whole life up to now surfing on the California beaches.

Lara appeared ecstatic, glorying in the attention of the two handsome men, who leaned across her from time to time in order to speak to Each other over the din of the music. She was wearing an extremely low-cut white dress, no more than a slinky slip, brilliant against her heavy tan and a long mane of golden hair.

Senator Dylan asked Margaret to dance, and before Jennifer could catch Matthew's eye, she saw Lara leap to her feet and put out a hand to him. Why doesn't she stick to her own man? Jennifer wondered irritably, and why did Matthew have that fatuous grin on his face? Really, the woman was a menace.

She watched as he pushed back his chair and took Lara's hand in his. He stood up, and the hand moved around her waist. He was smiling down at her, and as she turned into his arms on the dance floor, Jennifer saw both her hands move up to rest on Matthew's shoulders, the red-tipped fingers sliding possessively over the fabric of his dark suit.

That's my husband she's manhandling, Jennifer thought in a sudden spurt of irritation. As she watched them slowly dance their way into the crowd on the floor, she had a sudden recollection of the first night she had met Matthew. He had danced with Lara, then, too, and Jennifer remembered now what a handsome couple she thought they made.

She danced with William, who seemed much happier now that the party had settled down along more conservative lines.

'You and Matthew were right, Jennifer,' he said as he guided her sedately around the floor.

Jennifer turned her attention to him with an effort. She had just caught a glimpse of Matthew and Lara dancing by, cheek to cheek, their bodies plastered together. Lara was whispering in his ear, and Matthew appeared to be delighted at whatever it was she was saying.

'What?' Jennifer asked William. 'Right about what?'

'The party, of course.' He waved a hand. 'She got everyone loosened up, and now they're all having a marvelous time.'

'Yes,' Jennifer agreed in a wry tone. 'They're loosened up, all right.' And my husband among them, she added to herself.

As the evening progressed, Jennifer could hardly keep her eyes off Lara and Matthew. Even when they weren't dancing, He seems to be enjoying it, Jennifer thought, watching the blackhead bend close to Lara's and laughing at her jokes, actually flirting with her. Really, Jennifer thought crossly, that dress is too much! Or, rather, too little! The white silk clung sensuously to every curve, and when she leaned over, the deep V neckline revealed a good portion of the full breasts.

Jennifer felt positively dowdy in her old black dress with the beaded white jacket, almost three years old, now. At least it fit her better now than it had last winter, but she decided that she'd have to start paying more attention to her clothes.

Matthew asked her to dance at last, after two dances with the clinging Lara and one with Margaret. By now, Jennifer was really angry. She wasn't jealous, she told herself, she just hated to see her husband make a fool of himself.

Sitting at the table, seething, she had drunk glass after glass of champagne, and when she stood up now to dance with Matthew, her head spun ominously. She put down her glass. No more of that, she promised herself.

She looked at Matthew, waiting for her patiently by her chair, a half-smile on the handsome face, a gleam of pleasure in the grey eyes, put there, no doubt, Jennifer thought bitterly, by the attention of the beautiful Lara. Then a wicked thought suddenly came to her.

He's my husband, damn it, she said to herself. If anyone is going to put that light in his eyes, it'll be me! Casually, without looking at him, she slipped off the beaded jacket and laid it on the back of her chair.

When she went into his arms, he held her loosely at a distance, as was his custom, and began to move out on to the dance floor. No, she said to herself recklessly, not this time. Not tonight. She moved closer to him, slid her arms up to his shoulders, then clasped her hands behind his neck.

He simply stopped short, right on the dance floor, and looked down at her, a puzzled frown on his face. She fluttered her thick eyelashes and gazed up at him demurely.

'What's wrong, Matthew?' she asked, giving him what she hoped was a seductive smile. She began to twine her fingers through the black hair above the nape of his neck and pressed herself up against him.

She felt him draw in a breath, saw the grey eyes widen momentarily, then his arms came around her, holding her closer. The strong thighs pressed against hers, and he started dancing again.

'Nothing's wrong,' he murmured, his breath warm in her ear. 'Nothing at all.'

As they danced in the dim smoky room, their arms around each other, their faces pressed together, Jennifer's anger gradually faded, and a slow languorous warmth began to steal through her. She was still a little dizzy from the champagne she had drunk, but she knew the exquisite sensations rippling through her body had nothing to do with wine.

Matthew had placed one of his hands flat against her bare back, over the low bodice of the black dress. It was moving slowly now, warm and strong, and she felt his lips on her cheek. She closed her eyes, swaying a little in his arms.

Then his mouth was at her ear, his breath soft and sensuous. 'Let's get out of here,' he murmured. 'Let's go home.'

She drew her head back a little and opened her eyes. She looked up at Matthew and the silvery eyes

Glowed down at her. The finely carved mouth was relaxed, the lines of tension on his face smoothed out. He's so handsome, she thought, so tall, so Strong. She felt giddy with desire and love.

She ran her hand up over the back of his neck and into his hair. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'Yes.'

Still, in a daze, Jennifer allowed him to lead her off the floor, but by the time he had retrieved her jacket and coat and they'd said their goodbyes to the rest of the Party, she was beginning to have second thoughts about the explosive situation she'd maneuvered herself into.

Outside in the cool evening air, as they walked towards the car, her head cleared considerably, and she realized with dismay that in her fit of pique over Lara's possessive attitude, she had initiated something she knew she couldn't go through with.

As they strode along the sidewalk, Matthew's arm was clamped tightly around her shoulder, holding her close against him. When they reached the car, she glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, shivering a little at the look of intense concentration on the strong face.

He glanced down at her. 'Cold?' he asked, pulling her closer.

She smiled weakly. 'A little.'

He kissed her briefly, then opened the door of the Mercedes and handed her inside. What in the world am I going to do? She thought as she waited for him to get in. How am I going to get out of this?

They didn't speak at all during the short drive home or in the elevator going up to the apartment. Jennifer tried to think, but nothing came to her. All her fine resolutions had gone out the window. She cursed Lara Jones, but in her heart, she knew it was her own petty jealousy that had landed her in this awful position.

Inside the apartment, Matthew flicked the switch that turned on the dim lamp by the sofa, shut the door to the hall behind him and put his keys in his jacket pocket. She had turned her back to him and was starting to shrug out of her coat, wondering if she shouldn't just say a casual goodnight and go off to her own bedroom without any lengthy explanations. She dreaded a scene.

Then, before she could decide, she felt him pulling the coat off her shoulders and down her arms. His head came down, his mouth in her hair, and he tossed the coat on to a nearby chair. She stood there, paralyzed, as his arms came around her, and glanced down to see them around her waist, firm and possessive.

His mouth was at her ear now, murmuring softly, 'I want you, Jennifer. God, how I want you.'

Her heart leaped at his words, she felt him leave her momentarily as he shrugged out of his own jacket and tossed them both on to the chair with her coat.

In 'that moment, she knew she had to stop him before it was too late and her own desire betrayed her. If she let this go on, gave in to her feelings, there would only be more heartache ahead for her when he retreated again to worship at Beth's shrine. She couldn't bear that. Not again.

When his hands came back to settle on her bare shoulders, she took a step away from him and whirled around to face him. He had taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. She stared for a moment at the long column of his throat, the glimpse of the bare tanned chest, the brilliant grey eyes, then steeled herself.

In a clear firm voice, she announced, 'Matthew, I'm going to bed now. Alone.'

It was the only way she could do it, but when she saw the look of blank incomprehension on his face, she immediately regretted her brutal tone. Then the grey eyes flashed with sudden anger. Her heart started to beat rapidly, and she struggled to remain calm and composed. Naturally, he would resent what she had done, she told herself, but Matthew was a gentleman. He had complete control over his emotions. She had nothing to fear from him.

'No,' he said thickly at last. 'You can't do that.'

She lifted her chin. 'I'm sorry. I have to. Surely you understand...'

'Understand!' he growled, taking the step towards her that separated them and grasping her roughly around the neck. 'That's all I've been doing for the past month!'

His face was flushed with fury and the large strong hand at the back of her head was pulling her hair, hurting her.

'Matthew,' she said weakly, 'I know how you must feel. ..'

'No, damn it,' he shouted, 'you don't know how I feel! It's one thing for you to banish me from your bed when you keep a decent distance between us. That's difficult enough, living here in the same apartment with you. But when you deliberately tease me, lead me on, and then back off, that's something else again.'

Jennifer's eyes widened in fear at the harsh tone, and she stared up at the menacing dark face looming over her. This wasn't the Matthew she knew. This was a stranger, threatening, dangerous, out of control.

'I didn't mean ...' she faltered.

An ugly sneer twisted on his mouth. 'You didn't mean! You don't know what you mean, do you, Jennifer? One night you melt in my arms, the next you're a block of ice. Well, I've had enough! You're going to finish what you started out on that dance floor, or I'm going to take it by force.'

Both hands were around her neck now, almost choking her, and she was badly frightened. What would he do? Rape her? Kill her? His mouth came down on hers, hard and grinding, drawing blood as her teeth bit into her soft inner lips. She struggled, moaning, as his tongue forced her lips apart and invaded her mouth, but the more she fought him, the more firmly he held her.

He tore his mouth away and drew back, glaring down at her, his eyes wild, his face suffused with naked desire. She cowered back from him, the green eyes pleading, but her fear only seemed to inflame him further.

He reached out a hand and clutched the low bodice of her dress. In one abrupt, powerful movement he yanked it down so that the center seam ripped apart and the black material fell away, leaving her bare breasts half-exposed.

'Matthew,' she whispered. 'Don't. Don't do this.'

'You asked for it,' he ground out, the grey eyes flashing, 'and you're going to get it.'

she stood rigid and trembling while he pulled the ruined dress roughly off her shoulders until it dropped on the floor at her feet. He was like a maniac, pulling now at her underpants until they too were ripped away. She didn't even recognize him. His hands came back to her bare body and began kneading her breasts painfully. She could hear his rasping breath, feel its harshness on her mouth as he claimed it once again.

Then he swooped her up roughly into his arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom. After he dropped her carelessly on the bed, he stood up, glaring down at her naked form. She lay there, frozen with fear, watching him in the dim light from the hall as he took off his shirt, then unbuckled his belt

And slipped out of the dark trousers.

Should she try to get away? How could she? Where could she run to, naked, in the middle of the night? She couldn't fight him. She was no match for his superior strength, especially in his aroused state. The best thing she could do was lie there and let him use her body until his passion and fury were spent.

He was on the bed kneeling over her now, the palms of his hands firmly planted on either side of her head, his broad shoulders and powerful bare chest heaving. She looked up at the dark head poised over her, the eyes glazed with lustful anger, the disheveled hair falling over his forehead.

She bit her lip and turned her head away on the pillow, choking back a sob. 'Please, Matthew,' she groaned. 'Not like this.'

For a moment, she felt him pause and stiffen. Then he lowered himself on top of her and she heard him speak as if from a great distance. 'It's too late, Jennifer. I've got to finish what you started.'

His mouth was at her breast now, pulling greedily at the peak while his hand moved over her other breast. To her horror, she felt her n*****s harden under his lips and hand, and she began to move beneath him, responding to him against her will, matching his fierce desire as a liquid fire coursed through her bloodstream.

When he took her at last, she cried out, clutching at him, with him all the way, until they reached the peak together. Then, passion spent, at last, he slumped down against her and they fell apart, exhausted.

With a groan, he rolled away from her to the other side of the bed. Jennifer lay there beside him, her whole body sore from his violent lovemaking. She could hear his breathing and longed for him to take her in his arms, to comfort her, tell her he loved her. The short distance between them in the bed could have been a million miles.

She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye. He was quieter now, lying on his back with one arm thrown over his forehead, his eyes closed. A wave of despair passed over her at his cold rejection, and the tears began to gather, spilling slowly down her cheeks.

Suddenly, she felt his weight shift and heard him get out of the bed. Without a word or a glance, he bent down to pick up his clothes and walked slowly out of the room.

After he had gone, Jennifer lay sobbing silently in the darkness. This was worse, she thought, far worse than when she had lost Richard. That had been a clean pain, searing in its intensity, but ultimately purifying and strengthening her.

This hopeless love she felt for Matthew was degrading. It pulled her down, weakened her. Not only was her response to him more violent than it had been to Richard's gentler lovemaking, but there was no future for her in it. He didn't love her. He never would. And tonight proved to her that she couldn't continue to live with him under the old arrangement. It wasn't possible. She'd have to leave.

The next morning Jennifer woke up with every bone and muscle in her body aching. She stumbled into the bathroom, and when she stood under the shower, she could see bruises on her burning skin.

It was late. Matthew was gone. He had made coffee, and Jennifer warmed it up, then sat drinking it at the kitchen table thinking over what she should do, where she should go.

She hated to go running to Margaret, but there was really no other alternative. It would be better to have to put up with her sister's probing questions and unwanted advice than to be alone right now.

After what happened last night, she felt tattered. Her nerves were in shreds. She had to get away, try to mend the ragged -edges of herself, her life, together again. She felt so tired, she thought, as she dragged herself to the telephone at last.

When she heard Margaret's bright, confident voice on the line, she had to resist the impulse to slam the receiver down. How could she face her? Yet, did she have a choice?

'Margaret, it's me. Jennifer. Would it be all right if I came out to stay with you for a while?'

There was a short silence. Then, cautiously, - Margaret said, 'Well, of course. You know I'd love to have you any time. Is Matthew going off on another trip so soon?'

What could she say? She couldn't lie and say yes, but on the other hand, she didn't need to volunteer anything. Margaret would ferret out the truth soon enough, but for now, Jennifer just couldn't stand talking about it.

'I'll tell you about it when I get there,' she finally said. 'Would it be all_ right if I come today? Before noon?' She wanted to leave as soon as she'd packed. She couldn't bear to face Matthew. She'd leave him a note.

'Of course,' Margaret said. 'Come anytime you like. After she had hung up Jennifer went into her room to pack. She wouldn't need much right away, and could always come back later, when she was calmer, to get the rest of her things.

When she had finished packing the bare essentials and stacked the drawings for the job she was working on in a large cardboard portfolio, she put on rust-colored pants and white blouse and stood at her dressing-table mirror brushing her hair. Gazing at her reflection, she was surprised to see how normal she looked. Aside from faint smudges under-the green eyes, they sparkled brightly. Her hair, freshly washed that morning, shone as she brushed it. How misleading appearances can be, she thought, when she was breaking inside...

When she was through, she slung her handbag over her shoulder and picked up the suitcase and portfolio, ready to leave. She glanced around the familiar room at the neatly made bed, the bare dressing table, the work table in the corner by the window. The room looked serene and tidy. She'd miss it.

She turned to go, then, and as she started down the hallway, she heard a familiar noise at the front door. Matthew, she thought, listening to the turn of the key in the lock, the door opening, and closing. Her heart simply stopped, and she stood there, unable to move, a sickening wave of dizziness passing over her.

Then she heard his footsteps coming towards her. Her heart gave one great lurch, then started to pound in a dull, heavy thud. She glanced up. He was standing not ten feet from her at the end of the hall, staring at her with a blank expression.

For one moment, Jennifer had second thoughts about leaving him. He looked very tall, very handsome, very self-possessed. Yet even at this distance, she could see the lines of pain on his face.

I've made him unhappy, too, she thought. I put those marks of suffering there. All she wanted in that split second was to run to him, throw herself into his arms and tell him how much she loved him.

Then the moment passed. 'I-I didn't expect you to come home,' she stammered at last.

'No,' he said quietly. His eyes flicked to the suitcase in her hand, the portfolio under her arm. 'You're leaving.'

'Yes, I am.' Her voice sounded shaky in her ears. 'I must get away.'

He only stared, obviously mulling this over in his mind. Then, 'Where will you be?' he asked finally.

'At Margaret's. But please don't...'

He frowned and held up a hand. 'Don't worry. I won't come after you.' He took a step towards her, one hand outstretched, then sighed deeply and let the hand fall to his side. 'I came home this morning to apologize for last night.'

'Please,' she broke in breathlessly. 'There's no need. It was my own fault. I asked for it.'

He shook his head, the frown deepening. 'Even so, that's no excuse for-for attacking you the way I did.'

'Perhaps not,' she said in a brisker tone, 'but the fact remains that I did provoke you into it. Deliberately,' she added with a lift to her chin. This was no time to hedge or play games.

He gave her a puzzled look. 'Why?' he asked softly.

She shrugged. 'I can't explain. I don't really understand it myself.' She gave him a long look. 'That's one of the things I need to sort out, one of the reasons I've got to leave.'

He bent his dark head, deep in thought for a moment, then nodded. 'Yes. I can see that.'

He looked so miserable, she thought with a sudden rush of sympathy. Why? Surely he's as anxious to get rid of me as I am to go. She recalled the hatred in his eyes last night, the violence in him when he ripped her dress off her, threw her on the bed.

Then a thought occurred to her. 'I won't do anything, well, legal,' she said in a rush, 'if you don't want me to. I don't want to cause a scandal or harm your career.'

His mouth quirked in a bitter smile. 'Were you thinking of having me arrested for raping my wife?' he asked quietly.

She flushed deeply and bit her lip. 'Of course not. It wasn't rape and you know it.' Their eyes met briefly. 'I was talking about a divorce.'

'Oh, that,' he said. 'Do what you please about that. My career won't suffer. People forget.'

'Very well,' she said stiffly. 'I'd better go. I told Margaret I'd be out sometime before noon.'

She started down the hall towards him, her step brisk and purposeful. She only wanted to get out of there, away from his disturbing presence. When she reached him, he stepped aside to let her pass.

'Goodbye then, Jennifer,' he said softly.

She couldn't look at him. 'Goodbye, Matthew.'

Her eyes were stinging with unshed tears, and it wasn't until she had gone down the elevator to the basement garage, put her luggage in her car and got inside and she let go. She laid her forehead down on the steering wheel and sobbed.