“This way, Audrey Rose! COME!” His voice rose to a command. “COME AUDREY!”
A prickle of fear coursed up Janice’s spine as she saw the face of her own child begin to soften with recognition, begin to lose the ravaged and brutalized look of terror. Teardrops hanging on her eyelids—the great blue eyes which now shone so large and brilliant out of her white and worn face—she slowly extended her hands to Hoover, in a tentative, testing manner. “Daddy?”
“Yes, Audrey Rose! It’s Daddy!” Hoover encouraged, in a subdued voice charged with emotion. “Come, darling.…”
“Daddy?” And with a smile that seemed to answer him, she scampered forward into his arms, clutching him in a deep embrace. And thus they remained, clinging to each other, like a pair of lovers finally meeting after a long and wearying journey.
Bill stood like a man in a trance, his shadow thrown vague and large upon the two of them by the hall light behind him. His face was pale; his eyes were wet and glistening; his mouth quivered with parted lips. His whole being seemed absorbed in the anxiety and tenderness at his feet.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he sputtered hoarsely, in a Janice hardly recognized. He stood, waiting for an answer, the lines in his face continuing to move, to speak, though his voice had stopped.
Elliot Hoover rose slowly, lifting Ivy up with him in his arms. When he turned to Bill and Janice, they saw that she was asleep, breathing normally, her lovely face now calm and composed in restful slumber. The man who had released her from her bondage took a step closer to Bill and gently conveyed the precious burden into its rightful arms.
“It was the accident,” Hoover said starkly. “There was a fire … the windows were closed … she couldn’t get them open, and there was no way of getting her out of the car … I was told that it lasted for some minutes.…”
A strange stillness seemed to close all around them. The very air seemed hushed and solemnized.
A cough behind Janice made her aware that Carole had been witness to the entire drama. She had forgotten about Carole, had forgotten about Russ, still upstairs in their bedroom.
“I’ll be leaving now,” Hoover said, a look of profound concern in his eyes. “There’s a great deal I must think about. You were both very kind to see me. Good night.”
With a token smile, he excused his way past them and left the room. Janice could hear his footsteps fade away through the lower regions of the apartment and finally disappear. Bill heard nothing. His entire attention was caught up in the subdued and peaceful cadence of Ivy’s even breathing, as she slept, satisfied and calm, in his arms.
Russ was still in their bedroom, breaking down the sound equipment and packing it, when Bill carried Ivy past their door to their door to her room.
“Everything okay?” Russ asked Janice, who had paused at the open door.
“I think Carole needs you,” she said wanly.
“Oh, yeah? What’s up?”
“There was some trouble with Ivy—She’ll tell you.”
Russ nodded and picked up his recorder. “I’ll go right down.”
At the door he turned to Janice with a parting shot. “By the way”—he grinned, placing the reel of tape down on the bureau—“this guy’s bananas!”
“I’m sorry, Janice, I just don’t buy it.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, I don’t buy it.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft, bereft of passion, past caring any longer what he bought or didn’t buy.
The darkness of the room seemed darker than Janice ever remembered it. Each lay awake, their bodies separated, hands disconnected, dwelling on their own private islands of despair.
“Suggestive hypnosis? Isn’t that what Dr. Vassar called it?”
“I don’t remember,” she said.
“well, that’s what it was. It worked for her, it’s worked for him. Suggestive hypnosis.”
“You mean he’s a psychiatrist?’
“Or a hypnotist.”
Janice suddenly felt sorry for Bill. He had been through a bitter, emasculating experience and was desperately trying to regain some semblance of mastery over the situation.
“You don’t believe it’s possible?” he asked.
“That he’s a hypnotist? No.”
“All right, then, what do you believe?”
He was forcing her to think.
“All right,” she said quietly. “I do not think he’s a hypnotist. I do not think he’s a nut. I do not believe in reincarnation. I believe that Elliot Hoover is a dedicated, persuasive man with a single purpose in his life. For some reason, he wants our child. With all his sweet, poetic, religious talk, he’s got a fire burning inside him that won’t let him quit till he gets what he wants.” She heard her voice quiver and felt tears sting at her eyes. “So you’d better stop him … before he destroys us all.…”
Janice turned her head into the pillow and let it all come out. Bill was there at once, holding her, caressing her body, kissing the tears from her face.
“It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?” he whispered huskily. “But don’t worry, he’s not about to get what he wants … I promise you that!”
His hand moved to her breast, kneading its soft and pliant goodness, finger tracing the corona of her nipple, feeling the gravel begin to ripple and rise along with his own passion. Her sobs were stifled by the depth of his lingering kisses. They made love. Afterward they both slept.
Janice awoke abruptly at three ten, having heard a sound from Ivy’s room. But when she looked in, Ivy was sleeping peacefully in the arms of her stuffed panda. Janice felt her head. It was hot. If the pattern of seven years ago persisted, her fever would grow by morning.
She tiptoed from the room and returned to bed. Neither she nor Bill slept the rest of the night.
9
Even after a long shower and a lingering shave, Bill looked haggard and spent, and he spoke in a voice that was gritty with weariness. He told Janice about the trip to Hawaii as he stood in the kitchen doorway sipping coffee.
“Goody for you,” Janice replied. The flippancy of her remark failed to camouflage fear and accusation.
“I’m planning to take you and Ivy with me.”
“Really? How will we manage that, rent a hospital plane?”
“She’s not that sick, Janice.”
“She will be. Give her time.”
“Maybe Dr. Kaplan can give her something.”
“For God’s sake, Bill,” Janice said, with a sort of wild fatigue, “you know what course these things take! By afternoon she’ll be burning with fever … and there’s not a damn thing Kaplan will be able to do about it beyond aspirin and bed rest.”
Bill drew a deep breath and said, “Well, we’ll see,” then told her about Jack Belaver’s heart attack, why he couldn’t turn down the assignment, and how it would be pure hell going without them. But Janice scarcely heard him through the noise of the water tap whipping up a from of suds on the breakfast dishes, forcing him to raise his voice in competition.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this—”
Janice turned off the water and looked at him with quiet intentness. “You really don’t?”
His answer was to stride purposefully away from her into the living room and pick up the telephone. She heard him dial a number, then say in a voice loud enough for her to hear, “Extension 7281.” A pause. “Don Goetz, please, this is Mr. Templeton.” Another pause. “Hi, guy. Listen, Don, I pulled something in my back and gotta go to the bone man. Cover for me today, will you?… Yeah? What else is cooking?… Well, you can handle that.… Get hold of Charlie Wing if you get into trouble.… And, oh, Don, tell that girl of mine to get me three good seats on tomorrow’s flight to Hawaii.… Yes, three. Janice and Ivy are going with me.… And Don, tell her to make it the last flight of the day that gets there before midnight.” A chuckle. “Pel said Thursday, and Thursday, it’ll be.…”