Untold Sorrow

Jealousy

Jennifer's P.O.V:

Matthew had been gone a week when Margaret called me late Friday afternoon to ask to come out to the house in Virginia for the weekend.

'Oh, I can't, Margaret, I'm in the middle of these new illustrations and can't leave them. I'll be lucky to meet the deadline as it is.'

'Well, come for the day, then,' Margaret insisted. 'One day can't make that much difference.'

But I was firm. With my marriage most likely in ruins, I'd need my work more than ever. 'No. Not even a day.'

Margaret heaved a deep sigh. 'Oh, very well, have it your way. It beats me how anyone so meek can be so stubborn. Have lunch with me Monday at any rate.'

'All right,' I agreed quickly, glad I had won so easily. 'Stop by the apartment around noon.'

After hung up the telephone, I stood by the hall table deep in thought. What did Margaret mean, saying I was 'meek'? And why was she so insistent on seeing me? Ever Since my marriage to Matthew, Margaret had given up the constant surveillance of her activities and appeared to have gone on to new and greater challenges.

She obviously had something on her mind, and, knowing Margaret, it wouldn't be pleasant.

On Monday, as soon as we had settled ourselves in the sedate old-fashioned restaurant, Margaret came right to the point. Her choice of a place to have lunch, out of the way and quiet, only confirmed my suspicion that she had more on her mind than a casual sisterly meeting.

'I suppose you know,' Margaret began when we had ordered, 'that Lara Jones father is on Matthew's mission to Palestine and that she went with him.'

I hadn't known, and I couldn't hide the look of stunned surprise on my face as I looked into Margaret's probing, narrowed eyes. Then I thought quickly, what difference does it make to me?

'No,' I said, recovering myself, 'I didn't know. Is there some significance to that fact?'

Margaret snorted and leaned back in her chair. 'I wouldn't even trust William with that man-eater,' she announced, 'and no one is safer than William. He doesn't even like blondes.'

I reddened, suddenly angry. 'If you're implying that Matthew and Lara...'

Margaret held up a hand. 'I'm not implying anything,' she cut in. 'I'm only saying you're a fool not to have gone with him. Why tempt fate? Didn't he ask you to go?'

'Well, yes, he did, but I couldn't. I have this new job.'

'Oh, damn your job!' Margaret cried in exasperation. She leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a hiss. 'Your precious job will be cold comfort if you lose your husband over it.'

I forced a weak smile. 'If I should lose my husband, Margaret, I'll need my job more than ever.'

Margaret opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort when the waiter appeared with our lunch. When he was gone we ate silently for a while. I was glad of the respite, and the chance to mull over Margaret's disturbing news.

Actually, I had nothing to fear from Lara Jones, given the conditions of my marriage to Matthew. I supposed it was quite possible he might have an affair with her, but I wasn't worried about Lara. I could have fought Lara. My real rival was Beth, and I had already resigned myself to the fact that I couldn't compete with a ghostly illusion for Matthew's love.

'Well?' Margaret said at last. 'What are you going to do about it?'

I continued to eat my lunch. 'I'm not going to do anything about it,' I replied calmly between bites. 'I'm not worried about Matthew.'

Margaret raised her well-groomed eyebrows in supplication. 'Oh, you poor innocent ninny!' she exclaimed. 'If I were you... .'

'You're not me, Margaret,' I broke in firmly. I carefully laid down my fork on my plate, barely able to contain my anger. 'You know nothing about my marriage to Matthew. Nothing! Now, if you can't stay off the subject, perhaps we'd better leave because I will not discuss it anymore.'

Margaret goggled at me, open-mouthed for several seconds. Then, accepting defeat gracefully, she put on a hurt look and Continued eating her lunch.

'No need to get huffy, darling. Let's just forget it,' and she immediately went on to impart the latest tidbit of New York gossip.

In the days that followed I tried to put that conversation with Margaret out of my mind. What did I care what Matthew did with Lara Jones or anyone else? He had said before our marriage that he didn't intend to have affairs or to embarrass my publicly. If he's changed his mind, it didn't make any difference to me.

Still, at odd moments during that last week before he was due home, I couldn't avoid the image of Matthew and Lara together. I remembered the first night we met when he had been with Lara and the way the lovely blonde had plastered herself up against him when they danced.

Was that firm mouth kissing Lara, now? I wondered in an agony of jealous frustration. Were those long fingers trailing over her body? I was astounded at the intensity of my reaction even to the possibility of such an occurrence and convinced myself at last that this was all the more reason to put a stop to our physical life before I was truly lost.

I would tell him as soon as he got back, I decided, so we could start out on a clean slate, and during the several days left before his return, I rehearsed over and over again in my mind what I would say. I wanted to be kind, but firm. I had to be firm.

He arrived back the following Sunday, exhausted but exhilarated with the success of the mission.

'I think we've made a real breakthrough in our negotiations between the Palestinians and Israelis,' he told me that first night over dinner.

I had been so glad to see him when he came home that I had almost forgotten my resentment and the resolution I had made to put an end to our physical relationship. And he had been glad to see me, too, I knew. His eyes had lit up when I greeted him at the door, and he had leaned down impulsively and kissed me briefly on the mouth.

Watching him now across the table from me, telling me about his trip, I found myself wishing once again with all my heart that he was really my husband. He looked tired, but tanned and fit, as though he had been outdoors a great deal in the past two weeks.

He had showered and shaved as soon as he got Home, grimy and disheveled from the long airplane trip, and was dressed now in a dark blue knit shirt, open at the neck. I couldn't keep my eyes off the strong forearms, the large sensitive hands, the fine mouth and long column of his throat as he ate or spoke to me or gestured to make a point.

We had coffee after dinner out on the balcony. It was after nine by the time we'd finished dinner, and the sun had just set. In the warm dusky August twilight, he looked more handsome than ever, and I began to change my mind about the talk I had planned to have with him, my decision not to have his child after all.

'How about you?' he asked, turning to me. 'Did you finish your illustrations on time?'

'Yes, I did. The store seemed to like them and have given me another commission for their Christmas catalog.'

'Wonderful.' He paused. 'Still, I wish you'd come with me, Jennifer. I missed you.'

I looked at him, my heart leaping in my breast. He had missed me! What did that mean? I thought about the beautiful Lara Jones, so convenient, so handy. Had he missed me enough to turn to the seductive blonde?

'With Lara Jones along, I wouldn't think any of the men would have missed their wives,' I said lightly, playfully.

He gave me an odd, appraising look, then threw back his head and laughed. 'You're not jealous, are you, Jennifer? 'His amusement angered me 'Of course not,' I retorted. 'At least not of Lara.'

Sensing my irritation, he sobered. 'What do you mean by that? I told you before we married that I would never embarrass you. I meant it.'

I stood up and began to collect the coffee cups, avoiding his eyes. 'It really doesn't matter, Matthew,' I said airily. 'We hardly have the kind of marriage where jealousy or fidelity have any meaning.'

As I passed by him on my way to the kitchen, he reached out and took me firmly by the arm. My skin quivered at the unexpected touch, as though a charge of electricity had passed from his hand to my arm, and I almost dropped the cups. I looked down at him, wide-eyed and tense.

He was frowning, a Puzzled look in the grey eyes. 'What makes you say a thing like that?' he asked. 'After what's passed between us, how can you say that fidelity has no meaning?'

Our eyes were locked together. My mind raced. What was he saying? Was it possible he did care for me after all? For one wild moment, my heart began to sing. I opened her mouth to speak. Then his mobile rang shrilly. Matthew released my arm and jumped to his feet. 'Hell,' he muttered. 'That's Martin. I said I'd call him as soon as I got back, and I forgot.'

He went into the front hall to answer the mobile, and I took the cups on into the kitchen, hope rising within me. Maybe it was going to be alright. Maybe Beth's spell was finally broken.

While I busied herself straightening up the kitchen, I could hear him speaking on his mobile in a low voice for several minutes. Suddenly he called me, I went into the hall.

'Jennifer, would you mind going into my bedroom and getting my notebook out of my suitcase,' he said in an urgent tone. 'It's black leather and should be right on top. All my figures are in it.'

'Of course,' I said, and hurried off down the hall.

When I entered his room and glanced around in search of his suitcase, the first thing I noticed was that the photograph of Beth in its silver frame was gone from the bedside table. My heart gave a great leap. Had he put it away, as I had Richard's? I almost laughed aloud with relief and joy.

Then I saw the open suitcase on the floor beside the bed, the notebook right on top. What a neat packer Matthew is, I thought, as I picked up the black notebook and saw the neatly folded shirts beneath it.

Then my eye was caught by a shiny edge of metal, just visible below the stack of shirts. I stood for a second staring, a sudden sickening wave of apprehension sweeping through me. I lifted up the shirts. It was as I had feared. Beth's lovely face smiled up at me.

I turned and hurried back to Matthew, thrust the notebook at him and went back into the kitchen. So much for hope, I thought bitterly, as I stood at the window staring blankly out into the dark night. He had taken Beth's photograph with him. He couldn't bear to be parted from that last remnant of his dead wife-his only wife, I knew now-for two weeks.

I could have fought a woman like Lara Jones and won, I thought fiercely, my hands gripping the edge of the counter. Trying to fight Beth was a losing battle. me-or her image of perfection-was so firmly entrenched in Matthew's heart and mind as a wifely paragon that it was hopeless, a totally lost cause.

When I heard him say goodbye and hang up, at last, I went into the living room, determined now to have it out with him before I weakened again. I simply could not bear to have him touch me now, knowing I was only a surrogate for the woman he really wanted.

He was still standing leafing through the notebook. When he saw me, he smiled and started walking towards me. For a second I wavered, then, my fists clenched at my sides, my chin raised, I decided that bluntness was my only recourse.

'There's something I must say to you, Matthew,' I said in a firm tone. 'I've been doing a lot of thinking since you've been gone, and I've decided that I'm not satisfied with the way our arrangement is going.'

He gave me a puzzled look. 'I don't understand. I thought...'

'I've decided I don't want a child,' I blurted out.

There was a tense silence then. He continued to stand motionless before me, his face blank.

'What you mean,' he said at last in a hard, grinding tone, 'is that you don't want me in your bed.'

I jerked my head back as though he had struck me. 'Very well, if you want to put it that way,' I said stiffly. Oh, God, I thought, this was agony. He was looking at me now as though he hated me.

He took a step towards me, his attitude faintly threatening and glared down at me. 'You lie!' he growled angrily, his face dark and forbidding. His hands gripped me by the shoulders, and he shook me a little. 'If you're trying to tell me you don't want me, don't respond to me, you're lying.'

I could only stand there, rigid with shock, appalled at his fury. I had never seen Matthew angry before. The grey eyes blazed, his mouth was curled in a sneer of contempt and his strong fingers bit painfully into my shoulders.

'You're hurting me,' I whispered at last.

He pushed me from him so suddenly then that I stumbled backward, almost losing my balance. With a muttered curse, his hands left me and he turned away, his dark head bowed, his shoulders heaving as he struggled for control.

Still, in a state of shock, I tried to gather my wits. I had expected him to be mildly disappointed, but his violent reaction stunned me to the core of my being. It was as though the Matthew I knew was gone, and a dangerous stranger had suddenly taken his place.

'Matthew,' I began hesitantly. When he didn't answer, I raised my voice. I had to reach him, make him understand. 'Matthew, you told me that first night that I could back out at any time. That's all I'm doing.'

He turned to face me, still wild-eyed, but apparently having gained control of himself. 'Why?' he ground out. 'Why are you backing out now? It's too late.'

I lowered my eyes. 'I have to. It's-it's become too painful for me.'

'What is it that's so painful for you, Jennifer?' he growled mockingly. 'Sleeping with me? You didn't act as though you were in pain. On the contrary, I'd say you enjoyed every minute of it.'

I colored deeply and muttered, 'That's not fair. I admit I respond physically to you, but...' I hesitated, unable to go on. I couldn't tell him I loved him, not now, not when he was glaring at me that way, the twisted features full of contempt.

'Well, then? What is it?' he demanded. When I didn't reply, he lowered his voice and asked in a soft, menacing tone, 'Is it because I'm not Richard?'

My head came up then and my green eyes blazed at him. 'How dare you say such a thing to me?' I was so angry I could hardly speak. He was the one who couldn't even be parted from his dead wife's photograph for two weeks. 'You, of all people!'

He colored deeply then, and his shoulders slumped, as though all the anger had suddenly drained out of him. He passed a hand over his dark hair and took several deep breaths. Then he looked at me again.

'You're right, of course,' he said, his voice toneless, devoid of emotion. 'I'm sorry, Jennifer. I don't know what came over me.' He shrugged and gave me a wry, apologetic smile. 'It's just that I really did miss you and looked forward to being with you again. When you hit me with this sudden decision of yours, it simply took my breath away. I had no idea. ..'

My heart went out to him. I had sprung it on him rather brutally. I had been piqued by the sight of that photograph in his suitcase just when I was beginning to hope again that he might love me.

'Matthew, I'm very fond of you. And I have to admit that I did respond to you. I guess I have all the instincts of a normal woman, and you're an attractive man. But, don't you see?' I spread my arms wide in a helpless gesture. 'For me, s*x without love is a mockery, a travesty, a betrayal of my deepest beliefs. I think it's because I responded to you that I have to put a stop to it.'

'That doesn't make any sense.'

I shrugged. 'No, to a man I don't suppose it would.' I lifted my chin. 'At any rate, my mind is made up. If you want your freedom, of course, I won't put any obstacles in your way.'

He stared glumly at me for a full minute. 'Let me think about it,' he said at last. 'Right now I don't know what I want.'