Thorne's Wife Page 5

“And might I ask if you’re still planning to go?”

  “Yes.” Val lifted her small chin in defiance.

  “Uh-huh.” Janet took another sip of her wine, apparently unconcerned. “Then may the bride ask what the chances are of the matron of honor and the best man being on speaking terms on the day of the wedding?” Her smile revealed a tiny crack in her outward composure. “Just curious, you know, since the wedding is only two weeks from tomorrow.”

  Val’s defiance gave way to concern. A tired-sounding sigh whispered through her soft lips. “Oh, Janet, of course we’ll be on speaking terms.” Val sent up a silent prayer that she could make good on the promise. “You know neither one of us would do anything to ruin your wedding day.”

  “I sincerely hope not—” Janet’s smile was tinged with self-mockery “—considering how long it’s taken me to work up the courage to face the altar and the idea of spending each and every one of my remaining days with a man.”

  “Charlie loves you,” Val said with utter conviction.

  Janet smiled. “I know. And I love him. But loving each other and living together in holy wedlock are two entirely different concepts.”

  “Tell me about it,” Val rejoined wryly. “But at least you won’t need to work through a drastic change of image,” she added. “Charlie fell in love with a strong-willed woman. Jonas believed he had married a marshmallow.”

  “Jonas did marry a marshmallow. Poor Jonas.” Janet’s grin belied her words.

  Valerie made a face. “Poor Jonas my foot. I think poor, arrogant Jonas is long overdue for a mental shaking. I love the man to distraction,” she readily admitted. “But I’m tired of playing the boring echo to his voice of authority.”

  “Love him to distraction?” Janet laughed. “I think you just might drive him to distraction.”

  Val shrugged. “It’ll do him good. He’s never been there. He might even learn what all the rest of us mortals have to contend with day after day.”

  “I wouldn’t make book on it,” Janet drawled, unconsciously echoing one of Jonas’s stock expressions. “But meanwhile,” she said, glancing at her wristwatch, “I have to get back to the office and contend with the meeting Jonas scheduled for two o’clock this afternoon.” She reached for the check, then smiled when Val scooped it from beneath her fingers. “Thanks for lunch,” she said as she slid her chair away from the table. “Where are you headed to from here? One of your classes?”

  “Nope.” Val set her black hair swirling with a brief shake of her head. “I’m armed with plastic and I’m going shopping for some new clothes to take with me to California. I saw a gown in Bloomingdale’s that I’m considering for the formal reception that’s being held on the last night of the rally. It’s a trifle daring.” Her smile was sweet. “Jonas will probably blow a fuse when I show it to him.”

  Janet’s ripple of delighted laughter turned heads in the elegant restaurant. “You are living dangerously, aren’t you?” she said as they left the establishment.

  “It adds spice to life,” Val replied. It had certainly spiced up her love life, she thought, recalling Jonas’s ardor on the night of their confrontation. To be sure, Jonas hadn’t touched her since that night, but…

  “Will you be at class tonight?” Janet asked, interrupting Val’s thoughts.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Okay, see you then. But right now, I’ve got to run.” With a flashing smile Janet dashed for her car, which she’d parked beside Val’s on the restaurant’s parking lot.

  Despite her protests at the time against his extravagance, Val loved the silver Cadillac Jonas had given her on their first Christmas together. A soft, faintly sad smile curved her mouth as she slid onto the plush leather seat behind the steering wheel.

  She had been infinitely more amenable then, Val mused, recalling that holiday morning. Jonas had made hot, sweet love to her that morning, in quite the same way as he had four nights ago, Val remembered with a shiver.

  Forgetting where she was for a moment, Val stared through the windshield, reliving the promise of hope she had felt then, two and a half years ago.

  Val had been happy then. She and Jonas had weathered the first stormy months of marriage and the loss of their unborn child. Since their marriage had begun as an unromantic business deal, Val had naturally felt uncertainty and doubt about Jonas’s feelings for her. With the intention of ending their union, Val had left him a few weeks after suffering her miscarriage.

  But she couldn’t stay away.

  A reminiscent smile shadowed Val’s eyes and mouth. Even then, confused and unsure of the feelings, if any, Jonas had for her, Val had loved him to the exclusion of all else, even her own sense of self-protection. Giving in to her own needs, she had returned to Jonas, determined to salvage their marriage if at all possible. Jonas’s reaction to her return and her own willingness to make the union work had made the possibilities for their future together seem endless.

  Jonas had said he loved her. His declaration was all that Val required…at that point in time.

  And Val had been happy.

  But as the months passed, and she failed to conceive again, Val’s happiness began to dissipate, to be replaced by feelings of inadequacy and discontent.

  A wealthy man, Jonas showered luxuries on her, beginning with the silver Cadillac and culminating, but certainly not ending, with the house they now occupied. What Jonas didn’t understand, couldn’t seem to understand, was that although she appreciated and enjoyed every one of his generous gifts, Val didn’t need things. She needed a sense of purpose, of contribution, of partnership.

  Since she had fulfilled the very demanding duties as Jonas’s private secretary before their marriage, and was qualified to be the assistant to almost any CEO, Val decided to go back to work. But when she told him about her plans, Jonas swiftly scotched her aspirations.

  His objections were valid; Jonas’s objections, as well as his objectives, were always valid. He reminded her, unnecessarily, that he himself put in long hours of work each and every day of the week…in addition to quite a few nights. He pointed out to Val that their time together was precious, because it was limited.

  Furthermore, although Jonas believed in and supported the principle of equal opportunity for women, and had proved his support by placing several women, Janet included, in executive positions within his company, he stated arrogantly and unconditionally that he wanted his wife in his home. Period. And, as far as Jonas was concerned, the subject was closed.

  Acceding to his wishes, Val drifted through life month after endless month, playing the role of housewife and hostess, while plaguing her obstetrician with questions about her seeming inability to conceive a child.

  The harried physician ran test after test, all of which proved negative. He then had her doing the morning temperature routine, also to no avail. When he ran out of tests and other ideas, the doctor finally offered the opinion that Val was too tense and too stressed about the whole thing, and advised her to find something to concentrate on other than her inability to become pregnant.

  That had been nearly a year ago. Since then, Val had followed the doctor’s advice with the fervor born of desperation. It had been a hit-or-miss endeavor. And her first attempt had turned out to be an unmitigated disaster.

  Val laughed aloud as she turned the key in the ignition, firing the engine into a well-tuned purr.

  She had joined the community garden club, only to learn that she had a thumb as black as her hair, capable of knocking off the heartiest of plants within days of purchase.

  Switching on the car radio, Val hummed along with the music as she drove off the parking lot and onto the highway leading to a nearby shopping mall. Along with the soothing melody, memories wafted through her mind as she drove.

  Undaunted after the garden club fiasco, Val had enrolled in an eclectic cooking course being offered by a local department store. She was more talented in cooking and, as a result, Jonas suddenly discovered better fare at the din
ner table.

  He didn’t object, Val recalled. On the contrary, Jonas was lavish with his praise. Of course, she mused wryly, preparing excellent meals went hand in glove with housewifery…not to mention with his healthy appetite.

  Jonas’s objections came later.

  Had his initial grumblings of disapproval begun with the course she had taken on emerging female supremacy? Or had they started with the first overnight trip she’d taken away from home as a new member of the local chapter of the Ideas for a Saner World Society?

  Val couldn’t remember, but she did recall Jonas’s opinion of the society in general.

  “I think the whole idea is insane,” he’d growled. “I’d bet a year of the company’s profits that the society was founded by bored women looking for something to do and an excuse to travel while they’re doing it.”

  He was right, of course. Val quickly lost interest in the disorganized organization and the petty squabbling the women indulged in. But while admitting that Jonas was right about the society, Val realized his reasoning on the subject of women was faulty.

  In truth, most of the women Valerie had come into contact with in the course of her varied pursuits were bored. But, she reflected, had anyone ever bothered to delve into the reason why they were bored? As far as Val could ascertain, no one had…most especially not the women’s own husbands.

  Although Val had met women who were plainly just malcontents, the majority was happily married to men with high incomes, men who took pride in their ability to support and maintain their families, men who preferred their wives not to have careers. In other words, Valerie met housewives who needed something more, women exactly like herself.

  A blast of rock and roll from the radio jolted Val out of her reverie just as she was about to drive by the last entrance lane into the mall.

  Cursing under her breath at her inattention, Val made the turn in the nick of time, telling herself to get her head together and keep it that way.

  At midafternoon on a Friday, the mall was full, mainly of women with small children. Dodging the baby strollers, Val concentrated on her business. The reason she had given Janet for her expedition was true…up to a point. Val did intend to shop for a few things to take to California. But her main objective was to pick up the engraved sterling silver service she had ordered as a wedding gift for Janet and Charlie.

  Leaving the gift for last, Val browsed through several of the stores, vacillating in her mind over the gown she had mentioned to Janet. After forty-odd minutes of indecision, and telling herself Jonas really would explode if she came home with the dress, Val straightened her shoulders and marched into the large department store. Some thirty or so minutes later she left the mall, the silver, several accessory items and the gown in hand.

  The phone was ringing when Val let herself into the house through the garage entrance. Dumping her handbag, car keys and packages onto the table, she dashed across the room and grabbed the kitchen extension.

  “Hello,” she panted in a breathless voice.

  “Where did I chase you from?” Marge, Jonas’s former mother-in-law, asked in her usual down-to-earth manner.

  “Oh, hi, Marge,” Val said, in between taking deep breaths. “I just came in from shopping.”

  “Did you buy yourself some goodies?” the older woman asked, bringing a smile to Val’s mouth. Marge, as Val well knew, was a dedicated window shopper.

  “A gown to die for,” Val answered, her smile growing into an impish grin. “Jonas will likely need to hire a roofer after he gets a look at it.”

  “Go through the ceiling, will he?” Marge said with a laugh.

  “I’m afraid so,” Val replied in a dry tone.

  “Good,” Marge snorted. “The cracker needs to be jostled out of his rut every now and again.”

  Val chuckled at the older woman’s use of the nickname the people closest to Jonas used to describe him. Having originally come from Tamaqua in the Pennsylvania coal region, Jonas had acquired the appellation of “coal cracker” somewhere along the way from bastard orphan to business titan.

  Reminded of him, Val slanted a glance at the clock. “And, speaking of the cracker,” she drawled. “I’d better get cracking with dinner.”

  “And speaking of dinner,” Marge echoed. “That’s the reason I called. Tomorrow night. Seven-thirty.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten, Marge.” Val groaned silently. Excited about becoming a great-grandmother in the near future, Marge had insisted on preparing a family celebration dinner, which by itself didn’t bother Val. The hitch was that Marge had also insisted on including Lynn in the party. “Is there something I can do to help?” she asked, resigned to the ordeal.

  “No, thank you. I have everything under control.”

  Val had to laugh. “You always do. But if you find you need some help, give me a call.”

  “Under the circumstances, that’s very generous of you.” The older woman’s voice was thick with emotion. “You’re a real lady, Valerie.”

  “Thank you,” Val said, then blurted out without thinking, “That’s nice, but can you tell me why it seems that the real ladies of this world have to fight for everything twice as hard as the real bitches?”

  “No, I can’t,” Marge replied. “But remember, you have Jonas, Val.”

  And Lynn doesn’t. The unspoken rider hummed along the line connecting the two phones.

  “Yes, I have Jonas,” Val said. The problem is to hold the marriage together without surrendering unconditionally, she reflected with wry humor. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she continued smoothly, “And Jonas and I will be there tomorrow evening.”

  “I do understand how difficult this will be for you, Val,” Marge said, making it clear that she saw through Val’s smooth tone. “And I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Some women…a lot of women…would have raised a fuss, if not flat out refused to show up.”

  “Well,” Val said, “I won’t promise that I’ll be there with bells on, but I will be there.”

  “Because you’re nice,” Marge said.

  Or stupid, Val thought. Or a coward. Or both. Aloud she merely said, “It’s nice to know you think I’m nice, but right now, I have to get a move on. See you tomorrow, Marge.”

  Val shot another glance at the clock as she hung up. Time was gaining on her, and she had a lot to do before leaving for the exercise class she attended twice a week with Janet. As it was, she probably wouldn’t have time to eat dinner, especially if Jonas was late getting home, which he was more often than not.

  Being careful of the large white bow on the elaborately wrapped gift, Val collected her packages, carried them to the bedroom and deposited them on the bed. After changing into lightweight slacks and a tailored shirt, she returned to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

  Jonas was late. He was tired. He was in a conciliatory mood. But, as luck would have it, he had, as usual, forgotten that it was Val’s night for exercise class.

  “What’s the rush?” he asked idly, observing her hurried activity from the doorway.

  Val continued to stir the cheese sauce for the vegetables as she cast a look at him. “I hope you don’t mind sitting at the breakfast counter to eat,” she said, avoiding his eyes and his question.

  “I don’t.” Jonas strolled to the stove. Looming over her, he sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good.” Dipping his head, he nuzzled the curve of her shoulder. “So do you.”

  While Val’s senses soared, her spirits plummeted. Why now? she groaned inwardly. During the past four days she had been waiting and hoping for his mood to improve. By why did it have to be now? She trembled visibly when his teeth gently raked her soft skin. Feeling her tremor, he murmured her name and slid his arms around her waist.

  “Jonas.” Forgetting the sauce, Val turned into his arms and raised her mouth for his kiss.

  His mouth was hotter than the burners on the stove. His kiss gave silent testimony to the hunger raging inside his body. “I need you, Val,” he groaned agains
t her mouth. “It’s been four days, and that’s three and a half too many. Let’s postpone dinner for an hour or so.”

  “Oh, Jonas, I can’t,” Val cried, pulling away from him.

  “Why not?” Jonas inquired with a frown.

  “I have to leave in a few minutes to meet Janet,” Val replied.

  “For what?” he demanded.

  Anger born of impatience sharpened Val’s voice. “It’s Friday, Jonas. My exercise class… Remember?”

  “Oh, hell,” he muttered. Frustration scored his strong features. “I was looking forward to a quiet evening alone with you.”

  Weakening, Val glanced at the clock. If she could catch Janet at home, Val was positive she wouldn’t mind if—

  “Why don’t you give the class a skip?” Jonas muttered, interrupting her thoughts. “You don’t need the damned exercise, anyway. You’re thin as a rail now.”

  Thin as a rail! That did it, Val thought, moving away from the stove. “No, Jonas, I can’t give it a skip. I told Janet I’d be there.” Stiff with anger, Val walked to the closet to get her purse and gym bag.

  “Hey!” Jonas exclaimed. “What about dinner?”

  Val paused at the door to level a cool look at him. She was tempted to tell him precisely what he could do with the meal. Instead she said, “Since you’re going to eat it, you can damn well finish cooking it yourself.”

  * * *

  As a rule, Val enjoyed the exercise class. Tonight was the exception. Seething with anger and resentment at Jonas’s lack of interest for practically everything unconnected to electronics, she performed the routines automatically, stretching and flexing her mind more than her body as she inwardly raged against his attitude. By the time the class was over, Val was physically exhausted and mentally depleted.

  “God, I hate this class,” Janet grumbled as they changed from their leotards into street clothes. “I keep wondering why I do this to myself two nights a week.”

  “To stay trim, supple and young looking,” Val replied in a tired mutter.

  “Right.” Janet grimaced. “You know, Val, there are days, many in number, when I feel like saying to hell with all this silliness.” She raked a brush through the hair she had allowed to grow to shoulder length because Charlie liked long hair on a woman. “I mean,” she added, tossing the brush into her nylon carryall, “do you ever get the feeling that what you have to go through to stay trim, supple and young looking is rather ridiculous…considering that in the end you lose the battle to old age, anyway?”