Carla, page 14
She took an automatic step toward him. Then he stood up and his countenance was so disturbing that she withdrew a step.
“You bitch!”
For one hysterical second she was positive that he was going to kill her. “What are you doing here?” she stammered.
“What do you want?”
He only stared at her.
“How did you get in?”
“Through the front door,” he said. “The same way you got in. After you left I remembered that you didn’t have a car, so I went downstairs to take you home. By the time I hit the street you were gone.”
“I … I took a taxi.”
“That’s what I figured. Anyway, I drove over here to see you. I took a short cut and waited for the cab to get here, and after half an hour I went to the drugstore and called here.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“No kidding. So I went back where I was and waited for you. After waiting another hour I knew you weren’t coming, and then I figured out that you were already home and wouldn’t talk to me. It figured, and it was possible that the cabby beat me to your place.
“So I waited. I waited all night and I slept in the car because I didn’t feel like going back to my room, and in the morning your husband left for the office and I rang your bell. The maid let me in, and that’s when I found out.”
“You didn’t come home all night!”
Her hand fluttered to her throat. She couldn’t speak, realizing what he thought she had done. There was a lump in her throat and when she tried to swallow the lump stayed where it was.
“All right,” he repeated. “Where in hell were you?”
“Danny,” she began haltingly. “Danny, I can explain. If you’ll just let me…”
“What’s there to explain? Don’t you figure I can guess where you were?”
She shook her head desperately.
“I know where you went, damn you. You were with a man.”
“No,” she said. “It’s not what you think. If you would just let me—”
“Shut up! Can you deny that you spent the night with a man? Can you?”
“Please,” she said weakly. “Please.”
“Shut the hell up with your pleases.” His right hand had tightened into a fist and she could see the rigid tendons in his forearm. He took a step toward her and his face was inches away from hers. She wanted to run but her feet wouldn’t move from the spot.
“Well? Just answer yes or no. Were you with a man or weren’t you?”
“I—”
“Dammit, yes or no!”
She wanted to scream. If he would only let her start at the beginning she could make him understand, make him see that she stayed at the Tiffany because she couldn’t come home. But she knew that he wouldn’t understand. Danny would leap at once to the conclusion that was obvious, inevitable, and totally inaccurate.
“Yes.”
The word had tumbled from her lips almost of its own volition, and once it was said there was no way for her to recall it. She saw the way his eyes went blank and then blazed anew with increased venom, and she wished she could explain but there was no opportunity for her to do so.
“Of course,” he said. “Of course you were. Well, how was it?”
“Danny—”
“How was it?” His voice had risen to a scream.
“Danny, you don’t understand—”
“I sure as hell understand! How was it? Was he better than I was? Did you moan when he did it? Did you wriggle around under him like you used to with me? How was it?”
She shook her head soundlessly.
“The bitch crawls out of one bed and into another. Maybe this time you picked a smart guy—one who won’t make the same mistake I did. Maybe you found a guy who wouldn’t even dream of falling in love with you—much less marrying you. You won’t have to string him along like a goddamned puppet. Is that how it was?”
“No,” she stammered. “No, no, no.”
“No, no, no,” he mocked. “I bet that’s the first time you ever said no to a man since you lost your cherry. But I want to hear more about how you spent the night. Was it good? How many times?”
“Stop it,” she said. “Please.”
“How many times?” he repeated. “You better tell me all about it. Give me a good description; maybe it’ll help me improve my technique for the next round-heeled Mrs. Richbitch I meet, the next little tramp on wheels who pulls me down into the grease for a fast piece.”
She didn’t say anything, and suddenly she saw that he couldn’t hold his temper any longer. His breath was coming shorter and his fist was swinging at his side. He stepped closer and she could feel his hot breath in her face but still couldn’t do anything. She wanted to run but there was no place to go.
“Go ahead,” she said softly. “Go ahead—beat me up if you want.”
“Is that what you like? You want me to beat you around like a sadist? Are you a pervert, Carla? Is that what you want?”
He drew back his fist.
“No that’s not what I want.”
“It isn’t?”
She shook her head. “No—but go right ahead if it will make you feel better. I suppose I deserve it.” She closed her eyes then, unable to maintain an appearance of coolness any longer. Tears came to her eyes and she felt herself falling forward.
Then all at once Danny’s arms were around her and she was nestling her head to his chest. The tears flowed from her eyes and dampened the front of his shirt. He held her gently until she stopped crying, all the while stroking the firm flesh of her back through her blouse.
“God,” he whispered. “What’s the matter with me, Carla? I’m so much in love with you that I wanted to hurt you. I didn’t know what I was doing, baby. But what am I going to do now?”
He was still holding her and his voice was low and heavy. “It’s no use,” he said. “You should have let me kill myself. You should have left the gas on; it would have been a hell of a lot better that way.”
She freed herself from his embrace and stepped back, trying to speak through her tears. “If you’ll just let me explain, Danny. If you’ll just let me tell you what I’ve been trying to.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I do! You don’t understand.”
“All right,” he said. “Go ahead.”
She took a deep breath. “You should have let me start at the beginning,” she said slowly. “I stayed at a man’s apartment last night, but I didn’t sleep with him. I slept all by myself.”
“You didn’t—” His eyes were wide with shock. She could see that he wanted to believe her but that his mind had adjusted itself so completely to what he thought was the case that it was hard for him.
“No,” she went on. “I slept alone. I went to his apartment because I couldn’t stand coming back here and I didn’t want to be alone. I had some thinking to do, Danny. I had a big decision to make.
“You see, I’ve had a pretty insecure life for a long time. My childhood was pretty rotten, and I tied up all this insecurity with the lack of money. It got to the point where money became tremendously important to me. I was so convinced that money would make me happy that, when I married Ronald and had money for the first time in my life, I actually believed I was happy.”
He nodded slowly, and she could see that he was beginning to understand what she was getting at. She wanted to stop and go to him, but it was important for her to get everything out into the open. She forced herself to continue.
“Then I met you,” she said. “I fell in love with you, Danny, and for the first time I discovered what true happiness could be. But the idea of the importance of money was so deeply imbedded in me that I couldn’t get it out of my head. And when you asked me to marry you and give up Ronald’s money, all I could see was the loss of a beautiful house and a wardrobe full of clothes. I couldn’t see the other things, the plus values that make a marriage real and vital.”
She stopped to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Last night I learned,” she said. “After I left you I was so torn in half by two choices that I couldn’t stand up. I couldn’t come home, Danny. I couldn’t face Ronald and I didn’t want to be in this house for a little while. And I thought I’d go crazy all by myself in a hotel. I wanted to be with you, but you said you never wanted to see me again.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I was just so damned angry.”
“I know. But I didn’t want to go to a hotel or to my home and I couldn’t see you, so I went to a good friend of mine and he let me stay there. And I managed to figure out that money isn’t as important as I thought it was. Love is more important.”
His eyes were shining. “You mean—”
“I mean that I want to marry you now if you’ll still have me.”
She turned her eyes to the carpet and heard him say, “I’ll always want you, Carla. I guess I never stopped wanting you, not from the first moment I met you.” And then his arms went out to her and held her again.
His arms were a haven—strong and protective and tender at the same time. She wanted him to hold her forever, and she knew now that she would never permit him to let go of her.
“I was stupid,” she said after a few moments. “I should have known that inside I’ve wanted to marry you all the time. I should have—”
“I’m stupid, too,” he cut in. “I kept taking you for granted, baby. I never looked at your side of things. I wanted to marry you from the beginning, and I couldn’t see how you could look at things differently.”
“We’re both a little bit stupid, aren’t we?”
He nodded. “But we’re gonna act smart from now on. You’re getting a divorce as soon as you can and the day it’s final we’re getting married. Right?”
“Right,” she said solemnly.
“And in the meantime you can give me a kiss.”
“Kiss,” she intoned, lifting her mouth to his.
“That was good,” he said. “How about another?”
“Another,” she repeated. And she kissed him again.
Then she said, “Come upstairs, Danny. I want you, and I’m not waiting until the divorce to have you.”
“Well—”
“Don’t you want to?”
He grinned. “You twisted my arm, baby. Lead the way.”
It was cool upstairs in the bedroom and the large double bed was freshly-made with clean sheets. The pair undressed slowly but surely, and when Carla stood nude before him with her breasts firm and proud and her thighs rampant with animal lust, Danny let out a small sigh and reached for her.
She stepped back teasingly and a smile played with the corners of her mouth.
“Say ‘please’” she demanded.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please—” He broke off and they both laughed. Then he held out his arms and she came in between them, hugging him close and pressing her breasts against him. He pressed her back to the bed and lay down beside her.
“Eight hours a day,” he whispered. “And seven days a week. Do you think you’ll be able to stand it?”
“Sure,” she said. “Do you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I wonder,” she said. “You might get tired of me, you know.”
“Not a chance.”
“I might bore you.”
“Never.”
“Eight hours a day?”
He nodded.
“Seven days a week?”
He nodded again.
“That’s pretty hard to believe.”
“It’s true, though.”
“You positive?”
He nodded.
“Really positive?”
He nodded again.
“I don’t believe it,” she said, giggling. “I think you better prove it to me.”
And he did.
Chapter Eighteen
THE HOUSE ON Nottingham Terrace was almost silent. Upstairs the vacuum cleaner droned lazily as Lizzie cleaned one of the rooms. A clock on the living-room wall ticked monotonously. A fly buzzed up against the front windows, then flew from the room and was heard no more.
Carla and Danny sat side by side in the living-room, waiting. It was late in the afternoon and Ronald would be home any minute. He would come home and they would tell him at once. His case was over; now was the time for them to put their cards on the table and get the situation resolved. Ronald would consent to a divorce, for there was nothing else he could do.
And, Carla, knew, he wouldn’t fight a divorce even if he could. Ronald wasn’t that kind of a man. He was too good, too basically unselfish for an action of that sort. He had proved that when he instructed her to take a lover, and he had proved it in every act of his existence. She knew that he would prove it once again.
At the same time she found herself dreading the moment of his arrival. In her own way she loved her husband and she knew the news would hurt him inside. He would be hurt—no matter how hard he tried to conceal the injury from her eyes. And she did not want to see him hurt.
All these thoughts were communicated soundlessly from Carla to Danny and back again. Words were unnecessary; they would have been quite superfluous. The two had reached an uncanny degree of closeness and perception to the point where thoughts seemed to be transmitted instantaneously from one to the other.
The closeness, Carla thought, was perhaps the most wonderful aspect of their love. She didn’t just love Danny, but she also loved the way she was when she was with him. And he felt the same way towards her. It was the type of relationship few people are privileged to enjoy.
Their marriage would work, she thought fiercely. She would fight to make it work. She would keep a clean house for him, a little house in the suburbs, the house he had talked about so enthusiastically. And she would be a good shopper and a good cook, and she would help him save money until he could buy the gas station.
She thought about their children and her heart grew warm. She would be proud, proud to walk around with her belly sticking out and Danny’s child growing within her body.
A car pulled into the drive-way and stopped in the garage. It would be Ronald’s car, she knew. A glance passed between Danny and Carla. I’m afraid, Carla was saying silently. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Danny was saying.
Then there was the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door opened and Ronald walked into the house, a brown leather attache case in one hand and his hat in the other. He came into the living-room, a smile appearing on his face at the sight of Carla and changing to an expression of puzzlement when he saw Danny.
“Ronald,” Carla began nervously, “I want you to meet Danny Rand.”
Ronald Macon acknowledged the introduction and the two men shook hands. They looked vaguely like fighters waiting for the bell of the first round.
“Danny and I … love each other.”
Donald’s face didn’t seem to change expression. “I see,” he said.
“We want to get married,” Carla continued. “I want to get a divorce and marry Danny.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“I’m positive,” she answered at once.
Ronald sat down, resting his attache case on the floor beside him and placing his hat in his lap. His fingers toyed with the brim of the hat. “Suppose you start at the beginning,” he said pleasantly. “Give me a quick run-down, will you?”
Ronald’s completely relaxed manner made things a good deal easier for Carla. It permitted her to relax and view the scene as one between three sensible adults rather than a tawdry melodrama. She started slowly but as she went along her voice picked up speed and assurance, and soon she was telling Ronald the full story of her affair with Danny, telling him how she first was physically attracted to him, how this changed to love, and how her desire for a love affair eventually ripened into a hunger for marriage, a home, and children.
As she talked she kept her eyes on Ronald’s face. It was impassive throughout, and she itched to turn and look at Danny and see how he was reacting to what she was saying. Then, midway through her monologue his hand found hers and held it and she knew that everything would be all right.
When she finished the silence was heavy and awkward. Ronald lit a cigarette and smoked thoughtfully, blowing great rings at the ceiling and watching them rise and then disappear. His eyes grew misty; then they were once again directed at her as he spoke.
“My turn,” he said gently. “There are some things I should have told you awhile back in all fairness, but I’ve withheld them for reasons of my own. But now it’s time for you to hear them.
“I’ve known for some time that our marriage was a mistake. The mistake was not mine, Carla, so much as it was yours. I got much more than I bargained for: a beautiful wife, an intelligent companion, and a person who actually cared for me.
“And what did you get? You got a father instead of a husband. You got money, and I presume you thought that was enough. Then you found that it wasn’t.”
It was easy to see that the words were hard ones for Ronald to say. Carla could tell that he was going through a good deal of emotional strain, but years of courtroom training kept his voice even and his bearing flawless.
“I tried to make it easy for you. I saw that I was not enough for you, and I attempted to keep you secure on a leash by allowing you a certain amount of a certain variety of freedom. I brought Charles Butler to my house not because I’m that friendly with the man but because I suspected the two of you would be attracted to one another. And I knew that I was safe if you had an affair with Charles. He’s not the marrying kind.
“You see, I tried to throw you into an affair because that seemed to be the only way to hold you. And here I misjudged you badly. It was unfair and I want to apologize for it.
“I thought an affair would be enough for you. I didn’t stop to consider the deep reservoir of love in you Carla, or to realize that you had to be not only mistress but also wife and lover in order to fulfill your inherent potential and be happy.
“And I thought my money would hold you. At first I hoped it would—then I changed my mind. I even thought of settling some money on you so that money wouldn’t enter into the decision you would have to make, but I soon saw the fallacy in that line of thought. I had to let you face the choice, or otherwise your decision couldn’t have any meaning.”
“You bitch!”
For one hysterical second she was positive that he was going to kill her. “What are you doing here?” she stammered.
“What do you want?”
He only stared at her.
“How did you get in?”
“Through the front door,” he said. “The same way you got in. After you left I remembered that you didn’t have a car, so I went downstairs to take you home. By the time I hit the street you were gone.”
“I … I took a taxi.”
“That’s what I figured. Anyway, I drove over here to see you. I took a short cut and waited for the cab to get here, and after half an hour I went to the drugstore and called here.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“No kidding. So I went back where I was and waited for you. After waiting another hour I knew you weren’t coming, and then I figured out that you were already home and wouldn’t talk to me. It figured, and it was possible that the cabby beat me to your place.
“So I waited. I waited all night and I slept in the car because I didn’t feel like going back to my room, and in the morning your husband left for the office and I rang your bell. The maid let me in, and that’s when I found out.”
“You didn’t come home all night!”
Her hand fluttered to her throat. She couldn’t speak, realizing what he thought she had done. There was a lump in her throat and when she tried to swallow the lump stayed where it was.
“All right,” he repeated. “Where in hell were you?”
“Danny,” she began haltingly. “Danny, I can explain. If you’ll just let me…”
“What’s there to explain? Don’t you figure I can guess where you were?”
She shook her head desperately.
“I know where you went, damn you. You were with a man.”
“No,” she said. “It’s not what you think. If you would just let me—”
“Shut up! Can you deny that you spent the night with a man? Can you?”
“Please,” she said weakly. “Please.”
“Shut the hell up with your pleases.” His right hand had tightened into a fist and she could see the rigid tendons in his forearm. He took a step toward her and his face was inches away from hers. She wanted to run but her feet wouldn’t move from the spot.
“Well? Just answer yes or no. Were you with a man or weren’t you?”
“I—”
“Dammit, yes or no!”
She wanted to scream. If he would only let her start at the beginning she could make him understand, make him see that she stayed at the Tiffany because she couldn’t come home. But she knew that he wouldn’t understand. Danny would leap at once to the conclusion that was obvious, inevitable, and totally inaccurate.
“Yes.”
The word had tumbled from her lips almost of its own volition, and once it was said there was no way for her to recall it. She saw the way his eyes went blank and then blazed anew with increased venom, and she wished she could explain but there was no opportunity for her to do so.
“Of course,” he said. “Of course you were. Well, how was it?”
“Danny—”
“How was it?” His voice had risen to a scream.
“Danny, you don’t understand—”
“I sure as hell understand! How was it? Was he better than I was? Did you moan when he did it? Did you wriggle around under him like you used to with me? How was it?”
She shook her head soundlessly.
“The bitch crawls out of one bed and into another. Maybe this time you picked a smart guy—one who won’t make the same mistake I did. Maybe you found a guy who wouldn’t even dream of falling in love with you—much less marrying you. You won’t have to string him along like a goddamned puppet. Is that how it was?”
“No,” she stammered. “No, no, no.”
“No, no, no,” he mocked. “I bet that’s the first time you ever said no to a man since you lost your cherry. But I want to hear more about how you spent the night. Was it good? How many times?”
“Stop it,” she said. “Please.”
“How many times?” he repeated. “You better tell me all about it. Give me a good description; maybe it’ll help me improve my technique for the next round-heeled Mrs. Richbitch I meet, the next little tramp on wheels who pulls me down into the grease for a fast piece.”
She didn’t say anything, and suddenly she saw that he couldn’t hold his temper any longer. His breath was coming shorter and his fist was swinging at his side. He stepped closer and she could feel his hot breath in her face but still couldn’t do anything. She wanted to run but there was no place to go.
“Go ahead,” she said softly. “Go ahead—beat me up if you want.”
“Is that what you like? You want me to beat you around like a sadist? Are you a pervert, Carla? Is that what you want?”
He drew back his fist.
“No that’s not what I want.”
“It isn’t?”
She shook her head. “No—but go right ahead if it will make you feel better. I suppose I deserve it.” She closed her eyes then, unable to maintain an appearance of coolness any longer. Tears came to her eyes and she felt herself falling forward.
Then all at once Danny’s arms were around her and she was nestling her head to his chest. The tears flowed from her eyes and dampened the front of his shirt. He held her gently until she stopped crying, all the while stroking the firm flesh of her back through her blouse.
“God,” he whispered. “What’s the matter with me, Carla? I’m so much in love with you that I wanted to hurt you. I didn’t know what I was doing, baby. But what am I going to do now?”
He was still holding her and his voice was low and heavy. “It’s no use,” he said. “You should have let me kill myself. You should have left the gas on; it would have been a hell of a lot better that way.”
She freed herself from his embrace and stepped back, trying to speak through her tears. “If you’ll just let me explain, Danny. If you’ll just let me tell you what I’ve been trying to.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I do! You don’t understand.”
“All right,” he said. “Go ahead.”
She took a deep breath. “You should have let me start at the beginning,” she said slowly. “I stayed at a man’s apartment last night, but I didn’t sleep with him. I slept all by myself.”
“You didn’t—” His eyes were wide with shock. She could see that he wanted to believe her but that his mind had adjusted itself so completely to what he thought was the case that it was hard for him.
“No,” she went on. “I slept alone. I went to his apartment because I couldn’t stand coming back here and I didn’t want to be alone. I had some thinking to do, Danny. I had a big decision to make.
“You see, I’ve had a pretty insecure life for a long time. My childhood was pretty rotten, and I tied up all this insecurity with the lack of money. It got to the point where money became tremendously important to me. I was so convinced that money would make me happy that, when I married Ronald and had money for the first time in my life, I actually believed I was happy.”
He nodded slowly, and she could see that he was beginning to understand what she was getting at. She wanted to stop and go to him, but it was important for her to get everything out into the open. She forced herself to continue.
“Then I met you,” she said. “I fell in love with you, Danny, and for the first time I discovered what true happiness could be. But the idea of the importance of money was so deeply imbedded in me that I couldn’t get it out of my head. And when you asked me to marry you and give up Ronald’s money, all I could see was the loss of a beautiful house and a wardrobe full of clothes. I couldn’t see the other things, the plus values that make a marriage real and vital.”
She stopped to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Last night I learned,” she said. “After I left you I was so torn in half by two choices that I couldn’t stand up. I couldn’t come home, Danny. I couldn’t face Ronald and I didn’t want to be in this house for a little while. And I thought I’d go crazy all by myself in a hotel. I wanted to be with you, but you said you never wanted to see me again.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I was just so damned angry.”
“I know. But I didn’t want to go to a hotel or to my home and I couldn’t see you, so I went to a good friend of mine and he let me stay there. And I managed to figure out that money isn’t as important as I thought it was. Love is more important.”
His eyes were shining. “You mean—”
“I mean that I want to marry you now if you’ll still have me.”
She turned her eyes to the carpet and heard him say, “I’ll always want you, Carla. I guess I never stopped wanting you, not from the first moment I met you.” And then his arms went out to her and held her again.
His arms were a haven—strong and protective and tender at the same time. She wanted him to hold her forever, and she knew now that she would never permit him to let go of her.
“I was stupid,” she said after a few moments. “I should have known that inside I’ve wanted to marry you all the time. I should have—”
“I’m stupid, too,” he cut in. “I kept taking you for granted, baby. I never looked at your side of things. I wanted to marry you from the beginning, and I couldn’t see how you could look at things differently.”
“We’re both a little bit stupid, aren’t we?”
He nodded. “But we’re gonna act smart from now on. You’re getting a divorce as soon as you can and the day it’s final we’re getting married. Right?”
“Right,” she said solemnly.
“And in the meantime you can give me a kiss.”
“Kiss,” she intoned, lifting her mouth to his.
“That was good,” he said. “How about another?”
“Another,” she repeated. And she kissed him again.
Then she said, “Come upstairs, Danny. I want you, and I’m not waiting until the divorce to have you.”
“Well—”
“Don’t you want to?”
He grinned. “You twisted my arm, baby. Lead the way.”
It was cool upstairs in the bedroom and the large double bed was freshly-made with clean sheets. The pair undressed slowly but surely, and when Carla stood nude before him with her breasts firm and proud and her thighs rampant with animal lust, Danny let out a small sigh and reached for her.
She stepped back teasingly and a smile played with the corners of her mouth.
“Say ‘please’” she demanded.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please—” He broke off and they both laughed. Then he held out his arms and she came in between them, hugging him close and pressing her breasts against him. He pressed her back to the bed and lay down beside her.
“Eight hours a day,” he whispered. “And seven days a week. Do you think you’ll be able to stand it?”
“Sure,” she said. “Do you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I wonder,” she said. “You might get tired of me, you know.”
“Not a chance.”
“I might bore you.”
“Never.”
“Eight hours a day?”
He nodded.
“Seven days a week?”
He nodded again.
“That’s pretty hard to believe.”
“It’s true, though.”
“You positive?”
He nodded.
“Really positive?”
He nodded again.
“I don’t believe it,” she said, giggling. “I think you better prove it to me.”
And he did.
Chapter Eighteen
THE HOUSE ON Nottingham Terrace was almost silent. Upstairs the vacuum cleaner droned lazily as Lizzie cleaned one of the rooms. A clock on the living-room wall ticked monotonously. A fly buzzed up against the front windows, then flew from the room and was heard no more.
Carla and Danny sat side by side in the living-room, waiting. It was late in the afternoon and Ronald would be home any minute. He would come home and they would tell him at once. His case was over; now was the time for them to put their cards on the table and get the situation resolved. Ronald would consent to a divorce, for there was nothing else he could do.
And, Carla, knew, he wouldn’t fight a divorce even if he could. Ronald wasn’t that kind of a man. He was too good, too basically unselfish for an action of that sort. He had proved that when he instructed her to take a lover, and he had proved it in every act of his existence. She knew that he would prove it once again.
At the same time she found herself dreading the moment of his arrival. In her own way she loved her husband and she knew the news would hurt him inside. He would be hurt—no matter how hard he tried to conceal the injury from her eyes. And she did not want to see him hurt.
All these thoughts were communicated soundlessly from Carla to Danny and back again. Words were unnecessary; they would have been quite superfluous. The two had reached an uncanny degree of closeness and perception to the point where thoughts seemed to be transmitted instantaneously from one to the other.
The closeness, Carla thought, was perhaps the most wonderful aspect of their love. She didn’t just love Danny, but she also loved the way she was when she was with him. And he felt the same way towards her. It was the type of relationship few people are privileged to enjoy.
Their marriage would work, she thought fiercely. She would fight to make it work. She would keep a clean house for him, a little house in the suburbs, the house he had talked about so enthusiastically. And she would be a good shopper and a good cook, and she would help him save money until he could buy the gas station.
She thought about their children and her heart grew warm. She would be proud, proud to walk around with her belly sticking out and Danny’s child growing within her body.
A car pulled into the drive-way and stopped in the garage. It would be Ronald’s car, she knew. A glance passed between Danny and Carla. I’m afraid, Carla was saying silently. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Danny was saying.
Then there was the sound of a key turning in the lock. The door opened and Ronald walked into the house, a brown leather attache case in one hand and his hat in the other. He came into the living-room, a smile appearing on his face at the sight of Carla and changing to an expression of puzzlement when he saw Danny.
“Ronald,” Carla began nervously, “I want you to meet Danny Rand.”
Ronald Macon acknowledged the introduction and the two men shook hands. They looked vaguely like fighters waiting for the bell of the first round.
“Danny and I … love each other.”
Donald’s face didn’t seem to change expression. “I see,” he said.
“We want to get married,” Carla continued. “I want to get a divorce and marry Danny.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“I’m positive,” she answered at once.
Ronald sat down, resting his attache case on the floor beside him and placing his hat in his lap. His fingers toyed with the brim of the hat. “Suppose you start at the beginning,” he said pleasantly. “Give me a quick run-down, will you?”
Ronald’s completely relaxed manner made things a good deal easier for Carla. It permitted her to relax and view the scene as one between three sensible adults rather than a tawdry melodrama. She started slowly but as she went along her voice picked up speed and assurance, and soon she was telling Ronald the full story of her affair with Danny, telling him how she first was physically attracted to him, how this changed to love, and how her desire for a love affair eventually ripened into a hunger for marriage, a home, and children.
As she talked she kept her eyes on Ronald’s face. It was impassive throughout, and she itched to turn and look at Danny and see how he was reacting to what she was saying. Then, midway through her monologue his hand found hers and held it and she knew that everything would be all right.
When she finished the silence was heavy and awkward. Ronald lit a cigarette and smoked thoughtfully, blowing great rings at the ceiling and watching them rise and then disappear. His eyes grew misty; then they were once again directed at her as he spoke.
“My turn,” he said gently. “There are some things I should have told you awhile back in all fairness, but I’ve withheld them for reasons of my own. But now it’s time for you to hear them.
“I’ve known for some time that our marriage was a mistake. The mistake was not mine, Carla, so much as it was yours. I got much more than I bargained for: a beautiful wife, an intelligent companion, and a person who actually cared for me.
“And what did you get? You got a father instead of a husband. You got money, and I presume you thought that was enough. Then you found that it wasn’t.”
It was easy to see that the words were hard ones for Ronald to say. Carla could tell that he was going through a good deal of emotional strain, but years of courtroom training kept his voice even and his bearing flawless.
“I tried to make it easy for you. I saw that I was not enough for you, and I attempted to keep you secure on a leash by allowing you a certain amount of a certain variety of freedom. I brought Charles Butler to my house not because I’m that friendly with the man but because I suspected the two of you would be attracted to one another. And I knew that I was safe if you had an affair with Charles. He’s not the marrying kind.
“You see, I tried to throw you into an affair because that seemed to be the only way to hold you. And here I misjudged you badly. It was unfair and I want to apologize for it.
“I thought an affair would be enough for you. I didn’t stop to consider the deep reservoir of love in you Carla, or to realize that you had to be not only mistress but also wife and lover in order to fulfill your inherent potential and be happy.
“And I thought my money would hold you. At first I hoped it would—then I changed my mind. I even thought of settling some money on you so that money wouldn’t enter into the decision you would have to make, but I soon saw the fallacy in that line of thought. I had to let you face the choice, or otherwise your decision couldn’t have any meaning.”
