“Deanna?”

“I’m in here.”

He entered the room and stood in the doorway for a while, looking outside and occasionally glancing at his wife.

“C’est joli, non?” He spoke absentmindedly, and her eyes reached up to his. “It’s pretty.”

She nodded. “I understood. Marc?” She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. And she knew he wouldn’t be pleased. “How’s your friend?”

For a long time he didn’t answer. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” She felt nausea rise in her as she searched his eyes. “How have you decided to handle it?”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to discuss it? We just got out of the car.”

She smiled at him. “How French. What did you have in mind, darling? That we spend the weekend being charming and then discuss it on the way home Sunday night?”

“That was not why I brought you here. We both needed to get away.”

She nodded again, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes. We did.” Her mind immediately sped back to Pilar. “But we have to talk about this too. You know, I suddenly wonder why we’ve stayed married.” She looked up at him again. He came into the room and slowly sat down.

“Are you mad?”

“Maybe I am.” She looked for her handkerchief and blew her nose.

“Deanna, please…” He glanced at her, then looked away.

“What? You want to pretend that nothing has happened? Marc, we can’t.” Too much had happened over the summer. She had had Ben, and now she knew Marc had someone too. Only in Marc’s case, it probably had gone on for years.

“But this is not something for you to worry about now.”

“What better time? We’re both already in such pain, we might as well lance the whole boil. If we don’t, it’ll go on throbbing and hurting forever, while we try to make believe it’s not there.”

“Have you been so unhappy for so long?”

She nodded slowly, turning to look outside. She was thinking of Ben. “I never realized until this summer how terribly lonely I’ve been, how constantly alone… how little we do together, how little we’ve shared. How little you understand what I want.”

“And what is it you want?” His voice was very low and soft.

“Your time, your affection. Laughter. Walks on the beach…” She said the last without thinking and then turned her head toward him in surprise. “I want you to care about my work, because it’s important to me. I want to be with you, Marc. Not all by myself at home. What do you think will happen now, with Pilar gone? You’ll travel for months, and what will I do? Sit there and wait?” The very thought of that existence made her tremble inside. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to.”

“Then what do you suggest?” He wanted her to say it, wanted her to ask for the divorce.

“I don’t know. We could call it a day, or if we decide to stay married, then things would have to be different, especially now.” Jesus, what was she doing? If she stayed with him, she couldn’t have Ben. But this was her husband, the man she had lived with for eighteen years.

“You’re telling me you want to travel with me?” He looked annoyed.

“Why not? She travels with you, doesn’t she?” Deanna had finally figured that out. “Why couldn’t I?”

“Because… because it’s unreasonable. And impractical. And-and expensive.” And because then he couldn’t take Chantal.

“Expensive?” Deanna raised an eyebrow with a small, vicious smile. “My, my. Does she pay her own way?”

“Deanna! I will not discuss this with you!”

“Then why did we come here?” Her eyes were fierce in the narrow white face.

“We came here to rest.” They were the words of a monarch, her king. The subject was now closed.

“I see. Then all we have to do is get through the weekend, be polite, and go back to Paris pretending nothing happened. You go back to your little friend, and in two weeks we go back to the States and go on as always. And just how long will you stay there this time, Marc? Three weeks? A month? Six weeks? And then you’ll be gone again, and for how long, and with whom, while I sit all alone in that goddamn museum we live in, waiting for you to come back. Alone again dammit. Alone!”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is, and you know it. And what I’m telling you now is that I’ve had enough. As far as I’m concerned, those days are over.” She stood up suddenly then and was about to leave the room, but when she got to her feet, she felt faint. She stopped for a moment, looking down and holding on to her chair.

He watched her, at first saying nothing, then with concern in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” She straightened herself and glared at him from where she stood. “I’m just very tired.”

“Then go and rest. I’ll show you our room.” He gently took her elbow until he was sure that she was steady on her feet, then led the way down the long hall to the other end of the house. They had taken over the master bedroom, a splendid suite done in silks the color of raspberries and cream. “Why don’t you lie down for a while, Deanna.” She was looking steadily worse. “I’ll take a walk.”

“And then what?” She looked up at him miserably from the bed. “Then what do we do? I can’t do this anymore, Marc. I can’t play the game.”

He was tempted to say “What game?” to deny it all. He said nothing, and Deanna went on, looking directly into his eyes as she spoke. They looked troubled and a little too full.

“I want to know what you feel, what you think, what you’re going to do. What’s going to be different for me, other than the fact that we no longer have Pilar. I want to know if you’re going to go on seeing your mistress. I want to know all the things you think it’s rude to say. Say them now, Marc. I need to know.”

He nodded silently and walked to the other side of the room, looking out the window toward the gently rolling hills. “It’s not easy for me to talk about those kinds of things.”

“I know.” Her voice was very soft. “Half the time we’ve been married, I’ve never been sure if you loved me.”

“I always did.” He spoke without turning around, and all she could see was his back. “I always will love you, Deanna.”

She felt tears sting her eyes. “Why?” She could barely say the word. “Why do you love me? Because I’m your wife? Out of habit? Or because you really care?” But he didn’t answer, he only turned to her with a look of intense pain on his face.

“Must we do this? Now… so soon after Pilar’s… death?” Deanna didn’t speak. His whole face had trembled as he spoke of Pilar. “Deanna, I-I just can’t.”

Without another word he strode out of the room, and she next saw him, with his head bent, walking in the garden. Her eyes filled with tears again as she watched him. The past few days felt like the end of her life. For a moment she didn’t even think of Ben. Only Marc.

He did not return to the house for an hour, and when he did, he found her asleep. There was still a look of exhaustion around the black-circled eyes. For the first time in years, she was wearing no makeup, and in contrast to the raspberry silk bedspread he thought her face looked almost green. He wandered back into the main hallway and into a study beyond. For a moment he sat there, staring at the phone. And then, as though he had to, he started to dial.

She answered on the third ring. “Marc-Edouard?”

“Oui.” He paused. “How are you?” What if Deanna woke up? Why had he called her?

“You sound odd. Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m just very tired. We both are.”

“That’s understandable. Have you talked?” She was relentless. It was a side of Chantal he had never known.

“Not really. Only a little.”

“I suppose it’s not easy.” He could hear her sigh.

“No, it’s not.” He paused. There were footsteps in the hall. “Look, I’ll call you back.”

“When?”

“Later.” And then: “I love you.”

“Good, darling, so do I.”

He hung up with a trembling hand as the footsteps approached. But it was only the caretaker, come to see that they were comfortably settled. Satisfied, the man went away, and Marc sank slowly into a chair. It would never work. He couldn’t keep up the charade forever. Calling Chantal, pacifying Deanna, flying back and forth between California and France, hiding and excusing, and showering them both with guilt-inspired gifts. Deanna was right. It had been almost impossible for years. Of course Deanna hadn’t known then, but now that she did, it made everything different. It made him feel so much worse. He closed his eyes, and his mind went immediately back to Pilar, to the last time he had seen her. They had walked on the beach. She had teased him and he had laughed, and he had made her promise to be careful with the motorcycle. Again, she had laughed… The tears flooded his throat again, and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of his sobs. He didn’t even hear Deanna come in, catlike, on stockinged feet. She went to him slowly and held his shivering shoulders in her arms.

“It’s all right, Marc. I’m here.” There were tears on her face as well, and he could feel the warm wetness through his shirt as she rested her cheek on his back. “It’s all right.”

“If you only knew how I loved Pilar… Why did I do it? Buy her that damned machine! I should have known.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It was meant to be. You can’t do this to yourself for the rest of your life.”

“But why?” His words shook with pain as he turned to look at his wife. “Why her? Why us? We already lost two boys, and now the only child we had. Deanna, how can you bear it?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “We don’t have any choice. I thought-I thought I would die myself when the two babies died… I thought I couldn’t go on another day. Each day I just wanted to give up, to hide in a corner. But I didn’t. I went on… somehow. In part, because of you. In part, because of myself. And then we had Pilar, and I forgot that kind of pain. I thought-I thought I’d never feel that way again. But now I remember what it’s like. Only this time it’s so much worse.” She lowered her head, and he reached out and took her in his arms.