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understood, there'd be no argument about marriage. It would simply be a
fact."
"Simply a fact," she repeated and struggled to remember how
unproductive anger was. "Daniel, our biggest problem seems to stem
from our diverse outlooks on marriage. I don't see it as simply a fact, but
as the biggest step one person can take with another. I can't take that step
with you until I'm ready."
"If you ever are," he shot back.
She moistened her lips. Behind her growing temper were regrets. "If I
ever am."
The anger he'd held in all evening gnawed at him. "So, you'll give me no
promises, Anna. Nothing."
"I told you before I wouldn't give a promise I may have to break. I'll
give you everything I can, Daniel."
"It's not enough." He drew on the cigar then watched her through a haze
of smoke.
"I'm sorry. If I could, I'd give you more."
"If you could?" Fury whipped through him, blinding him to reason. "If
you could? Nothing's stopping you but your own stubbornness."
"If that were true, I'd be a fool." She rose because it was time to face
him. Time, in fact, to face herself. "And perhaps I am, because I expect
you to give my needs and ambitions as much respect as you give your
own."
"What in hell does that have to do with marriage?"
"Everything. In nine months I'll have my degree."
"A piece of paper," he shot back.
Everything about her turned cold: her skin, her voice, her eyes. "A piece
of paper? I wonder if you would call your deeds and stocks and contracts
pieces of paper pieces of paper too lofty, too important to ever be
discussed with me. Or perhaps, as with the textile factory the governor
asked me about tonight, you don't consider me intelligent enough to
understand your work."
"I've never doubted your intelligence," he shot back. "What do deeds
and stock have to do with us?"
"They're part of you, just as my degree will be part of me. I've devoted
years of my life to earning it. I would think you could understand that."
"I'll tell you what I understand." Rigid with anger, he crushed out his
cigar. "I understand I'm tired of coming in second place to this precious
degree."
"Damn you, Daniel, no one can tell you anything." Fighting for control,
she leaned both hands on her dresser. "It isn't a matter of places; it isn't a
competition."
"What is it then? Just what in hell is it?"
"A matter of respect," she said more calmly, and turned to him again.
"It's a matter of respect."
"And what about love?"
He spoke of love so seldom that his question nearly broke her. Tears
swam in her eyes and smothered her voice. "Love is an empty word
without respect. I'd rather not have it from a man who can't accept me
for what I am. I'd rather not give it to a man who won't share his
problems with me as well as his successes."
His pride was as strong as hers. Even as he felt her slip away from him,
he gripped his pride as though it were all he had left. "Then perhaps
you'd prefer it if I stopped loving you. I'll do my best." With that, he
turned on his heel. Moments later, Anna heard the front door slam.
She could have fallen on the bed and given in to tears. She wanted to
maybe too much. Because she couldn't, there seemed to be only one
thing left to do. Mechanically she began to pack.
The drive to Connecticut was a long and lonely one. Weeks later, Anna
could remember it vividly. She drove through the night until her eyes
were gritty and the sun was up. Exhausted, she checked into a motel and
slept until dusk. When she woke, she tried to forget what she'd left
behind. The first few days were spent finding a small apartment near the
campus. She needed privacy, and indulged herself by having her own
place. Her days were full with planning, preparing. Anna thought it a
pity that her nights couldn't be full as well.
Anna could block Daniel out of her mind for long stretches during the
day, but at night she would lie in her bed and remember what it had been
like to curl up against him. She would eat alone at her little table in her
little kitchen and remember how she and Daniel had lingered over coffee
in the dining room simply because it was so comfortable just to talk.
She deliberately refused to install a phone. It would have made it too
easy to call him. When classes began, she fell into them with an almost
desperate relief.
Her fellow students noticed a change in her. The usually friendly, if
slightly reserved Miss Whitfield was now completely withdrawn. She
rarely spoke unless it was to ask or answer a question in class. Those
who happened to drive by her apartment in the evening or late on a
Saturday night invariably saw a light burning in her window. Incessant
study brought shadows to eyes that even her professors began to note.
She blocked any comment or question with polite but firm withdrawal.
The days blurred together as she wanted them to. If she studied hard
enough, long enough, she could fall into oblivion for six hours a night
and not think at all.
Connecticut in mid-September was brisk and beautiful, but Anna had
taken little time to notice the foliage. The strong colors and rich scents
of fall were bypassed in favor of medical journals and anatomy classes.
In previous years, she'd managed to enjoy her surroundings while
devoting herself to her studies. Now, if she stopped for a moment to
admire the wild riot of leaves, she would think only of a cliff top and the
roar of water on rock. And she would wonder, in that moment before she
pulled herself away, if Daniel was building his house.
In defense, she had even avoided contacting Myra, though her friend
sent her long, annoyed letters. When the telegram arrived, Anna realized
she couldn't hide forever. It read simply: IF YOU DON'T WANT ME
ON YOUR DOORSTEP IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS CALL STOP
MYRA STOP.
With the telegram mixed in with her notes on the circulatory system,
Anna stopped between classes at a pay phone in the student lounge.
Armed with change, she put the call through and waited.
"Hello."
"Myra, if you arrived on my doorstep you'd have to sleep there. I don't
have an extra bed."
"Anna! Good God, I was beginning to think you'd slid into the Atlantic."
Anna heard the quick snap of a lighter and an indrawn breath. "That was
easier to believe than that you'd been too rude to answer my letters."
"I'm sorry. I've been busy."
"You've been hiding," Myra corrected. "And I'll tolerate that as long as
it's not from me. I've been worried about you."
"Don't be. I'm fine."
"Of course."
"No, I'm not fine," she admitted because it was Myra. "But I am busy, up
to my ears in books and notes."
"You haven't called Daniel?"
"No, I can't." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the
cool metal of the phone. "How is he? Have you seen him?"
"Seen him?" Anna could almost see Myra roll her eyes. "He went crazy
the night you left. Woke Herbert and I up after two a.m., demanding if
you were here. Herbert calmed him down. The man's positively
amazing Herbert that is. We haven't seen a great deal of Daniel since,
but I hear he's spending a lot of time in Hyannis Port supervising the
building of his house."
"Yes, he would." And she could see him there, watching the machines
dig and the men laying stone.
"Anna, did you know that Daniel overheard that little incident with
Cathleen the night of the dinner party?"
She caught herself wallowing in self-pity and shook her head. "No. No,
he didn't tell me. Oh& " She remembered the underlying fury she'd
sensed in him the same fury he'd turned on her. It explained a great
deal.
"I heard him tell Herbert he'd like to wring her skinny neck. Though I
approved, Herbert talked him out of it. It did seem though that the entire
business had thrown him off. The man has the idea that you should be
protected from any kind of insult. It's sweet really, though we can
certainly take care of ourselves."
"I can't marry Daniel in order not to be insulted," she murmured.
"No. And though I'm sure he deserves a kick in the behind, darling, I'd
swear his heart's in the right place. He loves you, Anna." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]