When they arrived at her apartment, after first delivering her mother and father to their motel, Martie discreetly recognized their desire for privacy and quickly bid them goodnight. Mark hesitated momentarily, then shed his coat and agreed to stay for a cup of coffee. She felt relieved, even though it was only a temporary reprieve for her anxiety, knowing where he intended to go when he left her.
She had been truly delighted and excited by his suggestion of the sailing trip in the Caribbean for their honeymoon. It was the sort of idyllic, romantic adventure that had always held a special fascination for her whenever she read or saw pictures of the islands. It was particularly appealing to someone who had been born and raised in a small town like Fairview, where the largest body of water within a hundred miles was a lake that could be rowed across in fifteen minutes. Now-because she looked forward to it so eagerly, but also to keep him with her as long as possible-she asked him to review again, the itinerary he had planned. She could see he was pleased by her anticipation of the trip and she listened, enthralled, as he described the places they would visit, the sights they would see, and the sea they would sail.
She had not asked him, and he had not told her, how or when he had acquired his knowledge of the area, but it was obvious that he had made similar trips in the past-alone. Perhaps it had been one of the places he had gone during those sudden, inexplicable disappearances that Grace had told her about, before his father’s death. She was sure that he would tell her about those other trips one day soon-perhaps, even on their honeymoon. Knowing him now as she did, she thought she already could guess at the reasons that had compelled him to seek the lonely solace of the sea, the sand and the sky. He had told her enough so that she could imagine the emptiness and wastefulness of his life during those years, when he was still searching for a point and a purpose for his existence. And Grace had furnished at least part of the explanation of why it had taken him so long-and how he had made the tragic mistake of marrying Marie-before finding the answer.
She had described, ruefully, the indolent, uncaring life that she and Bobby; with the aid of his inheritance; had pursued during the early years of their marriage, and even after the birth of Mark and his two sisters. It had lasted until the United States entered the war and Bobby, to everyone’s surprise, had volunteered and, to everyone’s amazement (including his own) had been accepted and given a commission. He had been assigned to a pleasant, undemanding but very socially acceptable sinecure in the Pentagon, and they had rented a house in Georgetown for the duration. Mark, and the two girls, had stayed with her parents, with whom they already spent most of their young lives during their parents’ travels. They had visited them on infrequent weekends and occasionally brought them to stay with them for brief periods. But, by the end of the war, ten-year old Mark’s perception had developed sufficiently to enable him to recognize their shortcomings as parents, as well as certain distinct advantages.
Their benign neglect; and the doting permissiveness of his grandparents; had resulted in a self-sufficiency and self-reliance that had enabled him to handle almost all of the problems and make most of the decisions required of a boy his age-and it had been already too late to reverse the process even if they had wanted to. Fortunately, he had had neither the inclination nor bad taste to cause them any embarrassment by his actions, so they had never felt the need. Besides, by this time, Bobby had been having difficulty adjusting to their old, dilettantish way of life after four years of exhilarating, if somewhat meaningless, military make-work activity. Having discovered the joys of honest labor, he had been unable to revert to the idleness and purposelessness of his pre-war existence. When his dissatisfaction and restlessness had begun to take the form of mild flirtations, Grace had realized that something had to be done to provide a more beneficial outlet for his energies. She had contrived, with the aid of the family lawyer, to arrange a meeting between him and a man named Joseph T. Spencer, an insurance broker who was looking for a partner. Bobby’s complete lack of knowledge and experience in the insurance business-or any business for that matter-at first had caused Joe Spencer to adamantly refuse to consider him as a partner. But, he had been persuaded to give him a year’s trial when Grace-without Bobby’s knowledge-had guaranteed to make good any losses resulting from his ineptitude.
But, it had never been necessary for, once again, Bobby had confounded one and all by finding an instant and lasting success in the insurance business. Although, to the end, he had retained an appalling lack of understanding of the legalistic terminology and obscure nuances of the policies he sold, his natural charm, pleasant manner and unquestionable integrity had inspired confidence and loyalty in their clientele. Joe Spencer had never had cause to regret his decision and Bobby had never suspected the subterfuge that had given him the opportunity to make use of the only natural ability he had possessed-a winning personality.
Grace, however, had found reason to question the wisdom of her part in the plot. For, with his success, there had come a gradual, but drastic, change in Bobby and in his attitude toward their friends and acquaintances. Regrettably, this change had been only one of direction, rather than degree, as he had become a joiner-an Elk, Mason, Lion, Rotarian, Legionnaire and a member of the Chamber of Commerce. Many of his evenings subsequently had been spent at ‘lodge’ or ‘council’ meetings, and there had been frequent conventions that had taken him out of town for days at a time. Grace had accompanied him at first, in this new phase of his life, and even had been persuaded to join a few of the ladies auxiliaries. But; while she had admired the zeal of the ladies in the organization and execution of their various activities, and had understood why most men would seek the spirit of good fellowship which was so earnestly and remorselessly fostered; she had felt only a stultifying boredom and a complete mystification at Bobby’s obvious enjoyment of his new friends and affiliations.
She had watched in growing horror as he had started to put on weight, began smoking large, foul-smelling cigars, telling bad, off-color jokes and his taste in food, drink and choice of surroundings and companions for both, had gradually deteriorated. But, since in their private moments together, he had put aside this new public face and had reverted to the old sweet, gentle, considerate Bobby she had married, she had still loved him. And, because he had been so obviously happy and contented in his success; and her initial objective had been achieved; she had never alluded to her other misgivings. Besides, the income from his father’s estate no longer had been sufficient to maintain their standard of living, and they had become at least equally dependent on his ability to supplement it through the agency.
Paul; who had been born late in the second year of the war; had been the only real beneficiary of the change in Bobby. As Bobby’s interest and participation in the activities of the various organizations of which he had become a member, had grown, it also had proved to be a stimulus to his latent potentialities as a parent. Tentatively, at first, but with increasing pride and mutual admiration, Bobby and Paul had taken to being seen together at all the father and son functions, at various and sundry sporting events, on the golf course and, when Paul had become old enough, had even gone off together on fishing and hunting expeditions- leaving behind an apprehensive and regretful Grace to ponder the changes she had wrought.
If Mark had felt any resentment at seeing his brother receive the attention and affection of his father which he had never known, it had never been apparent. On the contrary, Grace was certain, that he had grown too accustomed to doing without it and would have considered it an embarrassment, and an unwonted intrusion, if Bobby had attempted to play the same role with him. He had matured early, effortlessly and gracefully-physically attractive, if not handsome; popular with his contemporaries, but with few close friends; above average scho-lastically, with no apparent effort; and with absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life.
He had been drafted almost immediately upon graduation from college. At that time, in the middle part of the 1950’s, the world situation had been relatively quiescent. The Korean ‘police action’ had settled into an uneasy truce; Vietnam had been only a new name for an old part of Indo-China, and all of Europe had been busy watching the first stumbling steps of the Common Market. There had been no need for more officers so, following basic training, he had not been offered, and had not sought, a commission. He had been sent to Germany for what had amounted to little more than an eighteen month sight-seeing tour at the government’s expense. At the conclusion of his tour of duty, he had elected to take his discharge in Europe and had spent another leisurely year revisiting the places he had enjoyed the most.
Finally, in the Spring of 1960, he had returned home and, when he still had shown no indication of what he planned to do with his life, Bobby and Grace had felt their first real concern for his future. But, since he was then a grown man of twenty-five with a private, if somewhat diminished, income of his own from his grandfather’s estate-sufficient, at least, to permit him to pursue his own affairs without the necessity for their agreement or support - they had felt powerless to even question him on the subject. Then, after a few months at home, he had started disappearing without advance notice, for days and weeks at a time. The absences had become longer, with only an occasional, uninformative postcard to remind them he was still alive. And then he would just as suddenly come back home unannounced, as if returning from a walk around the block.
He had been gone in the Summer of 1961 when Bobby, without warning, had suffered a massive coronary resulting is his instant, tragic and untimely death at the age of fifty-four.
The unexpectedness and the suddenness of it had left Grace devastated. She had been unable to locate Mark, and he had not learned of his father’s death until he returned two months later. She had never rebuked him for being unavailable to help her during such a trying time, and he had never attempted to apologize or make amends for his absence. But, ever since-even though she had not seen him as often as she would have wished, particularly following his marriage to Marie-he had always made sure that she knew where she could reach him, if she needed him. And, when Joe Spencer-prompted by feelings of loyalty to his dead partner and gratitude to his widow-had agreed to stay on and train Mark to follow in his father’s footsteps, she had been gratified by his decision and the results.
As with the father, Joe had never had cause to regret his decision. Although Mark had lacked his father’s charm and ingratiating personality, he had had no difficulty in mastering the obtuse and intricate language of the business and had the ability to translate it into clear, understandable terms for the agency’s customers. In only a few months, he had managed to establish a reputation for knowledge, truthfulness and reliability that had further enhanced the standing of the Spencer and Tuesday Agency.
Joe Spencer had been sixty-two when Bobby died and a year later when he himself had suffered a mild heart attack, his wife had persuaded him to take an early retirement. The Spencers had never had any children, and Mark had simply assumed full control of the agency. He had continued to give Joe his full share of the profits and; three years later when Joe had suffered his second and fatal attack; had insisted on an overly generous and unnecessary settlement with his widow. He had then been thirty-one years old, and a father for two months, having met and married Marie Louise Gillian a year earlier.
Although Grace had liked Marie in the beginning-finding her pleasant and congenial, if not stimulating-she had sensed the basic insecurity and lack of self-esteem that had portended disaster in marriage to Mark. Grace had believed then-and still did-that Mark needed a woman who would compliment his strength, and not cower from it-who could cope with his determination without succumbing to his domination-who could give him the love and understanding and fulfillment that she and Bobby had failed to; and which, she was certain, he had in abundance to return if only it could be released. But, despite her misgivings, she had remained silent, only to see her worst fears realized.
It had been obvious from the start that their marriage was doomed to failure but, of course, she had not foreseen the terrible, tragic events that had finally brought it to an end. And she could not deny her initial shock when she had realized that Mark-although filled with remorse-already had found someone to take Marie’s place. But-Grace had since told her-it had not taken long for her to recognize that this time he had found what he needed-and what Cassandra needed as well.
She had been glad to have Grace confide in her and pleased to have earned her approval. She thought now that she probably knew Mark better than he knew himself and, as she listened raptly to the plans he had made for their honeymoon, she knew that life had a new meaning for him now, and that she was both the cause and effect. She felt proud and happy when she saw the appraising and approving way he looked at her, and the anticipatory glint in his eyes. She felt her own body fluids coursing warmly through her, and the nipples of her breasts grow tingling taut in expectation of their wedding night-and all the nights and days to follow. She was certain that the union of their two bodies would be like no other and eagerly looked forward-with an eagerness that she rather thought she should be ashamed of, but was not-to the wonder, delight, and excitement of discovery and exploration of each other.
They had come close, very close, on a number of occasions as he had grown stronger and the wedding drew closer. But conscience-or willpower-or simple respect for one another had always led to a mutual withdrawal from the brink. It was not a question of prudery or propriety-of mores or morality-that had caused them to hold back. But, they were both conscious that their love had been born in disaster, nurtured by tragedy and had flowered in the midst of deceit and treachery. And, it had seemed somehow necessary, and important, that whatever else went on around them that they should keep themselves inviolate for each other.
Now though, knowing he would soon be leaving her and where he intended to go, she wondered if maybe they had been wrong to wait after all. Because, she was sure he intended to go see Jim, and she could not bring herself to ask, or beg, or plead with him not to. She dreaded-and feared-the confrontation that would take place between the two of them but, she realized it was inevitable-even necessary-for Mark’s peace of mind. Even though there seemed to be little doubt that Jim would be named in Closter’s confession; and arrested by the FBI within a matter of hours; she knew that there were some things Mark had to confirm for himself. Once Jim was in custody, the opportunity to learn the truth about his relationship with Marie would undoubtedly he inhibited by the legal machinations and maneuverings of both prosecution and defense, and by his own instinct for self-preservation. It was evident that Mark’s ego and self-confidence had been badly damaged by the realization of Jim’s perfidy and, if not salved, could have a possibly demoralizing effect on their marriage.
It had seemed apparent from his behavior toward them during dinner that afternoon that Jim had not noticed anything untoward in their conduct, and felt above suspicion from any connection with Marie or the smuggling ring-and he had been at the time. Now-only a few hours later-if Mark did confront him with the weight of the evidence they had compiled against him, he might be persuaded to confess without waiting for Closter’s confession to be made public. She hoped he would, so that they could shake off the clinging cobwebs of the past and begin their life together in the clear, clean light of a new day. But now, she saw that she had kept him with her as long as possible, and that the moment had come when his need to come to grips with Jim’s betrayal out-weighed his desire to stay with her.
He glanced at the clock on the wall above her head. “It’s getting late, Elise. I’d better be going.”
She could only nod, as her fear lodged in her throat like a lump of indigestible food. Rising, she accompanied him to the front door and waited while he retrieved his coat from the closet and put it on. Slipping her arms between the open flaps, she pressed herself to him, feeling his arms tighten around her. It would be so easy to keep him from leaving, even with Martie in the next room. She had been tempted once before; when he went to see Wanda; and had almost lost him because she had held back. The temptation was even stronger now, because she was sure the danger was greater. If Jim really was Mr. In-Between, he had clearly demonstrated his disregard for human life, and might not hesitate to add Mark to the list of victims resulting from his treachery. But, it would be almost.whorish, to offer herself to him for that purpose-and, when it was over, it would not have changed anything; except, possibly, his regard for her. For, he would still want the answers to his questions-and only Jim could give him that.
Their lips separated and he looked into her eyes. “You know where I’m going, don’t you Elise?”
She tried to smile. “Yes. I know, darling. To see Jim.”
“And you’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”
“Could I?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “Probably not. And I wouldn’t want to lie to you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.. .ever. About anything.”
“I wish I could just forget it, and let the law take care of him. But, I think you know why I can’t.”
“Yes, Mark. I do know. But.oh, my darling! Please, do be careful, and safe, and come back to me.”
Then, her eyes could hold no more and she felt the tears overflowing and running down her cheeks. He took her in his arms again, and held her, kissing her gently and repeatedly, whispering reassurances and promising to return as soon as he could, regardless of the hour. She gave him a key so he could let himself in, just in case she fell asleep-which she had no intention of even trying to do-and then walked with him to the elevator.
When he was gone she returned to the apartment and went out onto the balcony, standing unfeeling in the bitter cold until she saw his car drive past and caught a fleeting glimpse of his face looking up at her. Then, she went back inside to wait for him to return, or.. But, the alternative was unthinkable. He would come back. He must come back.