The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [108]
“It doesn’t always work that way, but I suspect right in this case. That’s not really what you’re worried about anyway, is it?”
“No, I guess it isn’t. I guess what it comes down to is that I want him to be finished with the book and I don’t want him to be finished with the book.”
“Why?”
“When he finishes it he’s going to ask me to marry him.” She lowered her eyes, not wanting to see Olive’s reaction. “He hasn’t said anything. Not exactly. And I may be capable of misreading things, God knows I’ve been capable of misreading all kinds of things in the past, but I think I’m right this time. There are things he’s said. Feelings I can’t help picking up. I don’t know how much of it is me and how much of it is the right place and the right time. He’s been divorced a long time and he’s ready to get married again. He’ll talk about the loneliness of that big house of his. Nothing concrete, but just a lot of remarks he wouldn’t make to me unless he had marriage in mind. He’s too conscious of the effect of words to say these things otherwise.” She thought for a moment. “I think she’s got a lot to do with it.”
“Anita?”
“Who?”
“His ex-wife.”
“Oh. I don’t think he ever referred to her by name, Anita? No, I was thinking of Karen. His daughter.”
“How does she—”
“I think he’s starting to see himself as a father, as a part of a family. I can’t explain this very well. I’m just barely aware of the pieces, I don’t know how they fit together. Or if they really do.”
“You’ve met her?”
“Several times. And I feel I know her better than I do because he talks about her a great deal. They have this very open relationship. She can stay out all night or bring boys home with her, and everything is open and aboveboard. He takes a great deal of pride in this.”
“You sound unconvinced.”
“Maybe because it’s so impossible to imagine having that kind of relationship with my own parents. Maybe I’m envious, as far as that goes.”
“Do you like her?”
“Surprisingly enough I do.”
“Why is that surprising?”
“You know, I don’t know why I said that. I suppose because it’s traditional for a daughter to resent her father’s female friends. ‘Female friends’—what a stilted phrase. But it’s natural for there to be resentment. And vice versa. I don’t think she resents me, and I like her well enough. One thing—she makes me feel old. Not because I’m going out with her father. I don’t think that’s what it is. And not because she relates to me like a mother substitute, because she doesn’t. I think it’s just that she’s so much younger. So much less mature.”
“And he wants to marry you.”
“Yes, I’m sure he does. And I’m pretty sure he knows he does.”
“So the question is—”
“Do I want to marry him? Yes, that’s the question. And I’m not sure of the answer. Do I love him? That’s another question and I’m not sure of the answer to that one either. I enjoy being with him. I care about him. I feel … important when I’m with him. And comfortable. I don’t know if that adds up to love. I’m not sure I have the capacity for a more total sort of love. I know I’m sick of floating, of everything being temporary. It would be very secure to marry Hugh.”
“It would certainly be financially secure.”
“Yes, and I’m not sure how important that is.”
“Very important.”
“But also secure in other ways. I love his house. I love the grounds, the woods. The whole way of living. I can see myself being a part of that. Very easily, I can see myself being a part of that.”
“I gather you’re sleeping with him.”
“Not literally. I’ve been to bed with him. I haven’t slept over.”
“Because of the daughter?”
“Oh, no. She knows we go to bed. That’s part of their beautiful open relationship. They don’t have to keep secrets from each other. It works both ways. No, I go home at night so that he can go straight to the typewriter in the morning. To tell you the truth, I think I prefer it that way. The cozy family group around the breakfast table the next day, I don’t know that I’m ready for that togetherness.”
“No, I don’t think I should be, either. Suppose you