Chapter Twenty-five

For once Natalie held her ground and insisted on a motel at the top of their price range, which meant extras such as an indoor pool, a free breakfast buffet, and a coffeemaker in the room. After dinner in the restaurant-another meal that Isaac barely touched-she took the children down to the steamy, overheated pool room, letting them swim in T-shirts and underwear until their fingers were shriveled and their lips almost blue. It turned out that the pool's heater was faulty, so while the air was humid and sultry, the water temperature was colder than the Atlantic Ocean in June. But children never mind cold water, and she had to beg them to get out.

Back in the room, she hustled them into hot showers, surprising them afterward with cups of cocoa and hard little chocolate-chip cookies. The twins drank without comment, but Isaac wrinkled his nose.

"It tastes funny," he complained.

"You're just not used to instant," Natalie told him. "Put some more mini marshmallows in it, and it will taste richer."

Their cocoa gone, she tucked them into the bed farthest from the door. Penina was wearing pull-ups now, an utter defeat, but it was only fair to Efraim and Isaac. Natalie had bought another box of the pull-ups today, spending precious dollars at a discount department store not far from the motel. Married to Mark, she had barely noticed the price of anything. Now money seemed to be the only thing she thought about. Well, one of two things she thought about.

Worn out by the swim, lulled by the chocolate, the children fell asleep within minutes. Zeke, lying on the other bed, watching the television with the sound muted, saw that they were out and nodded at her, removing the phone's handset and dropping it in his pocket.

In the car they started out as they always did, giggling a bit, stroking each other's faces, feeling the glad relief of a moment when nothing was expected of them-no childish complaints or tears, no demands, no work to do, no people to deceive. But Zeke quickly moved ahead, urgent, keen to do what they had to do and get back in the room. He unzipped his pants, pushing Natalie's head down with the usual gentle pressure. But this time she slipped her neck from his hand and slid across the unbroken bench of the front seat, straddling him and positioning his hands so he could feel she was naked beneath her skirt.

"C'mon, baby," he said, trying to force her up and off him, but the steering wheel kept her in place. "We agreed. That has to wait until everything is perfect. A beautiful hotel suite, you in a silk gown. Candles, music. It won't be long now. Be patient."

"I don't want to wait anymore. If you insist on perfect, you're never going to have anything. Nothing is ever perfect. Besides, what's the difference between being in my mouth and being in my-" She paused, not wanting to ruin the mood by saying something too crude. "Between my mouth and between me!"

He was ready, more than ready. She felt the telltale twitch where she held him, as if Zeke's body were arguing with his head. Natalie began kissing him lightly-mouth, eyelids, ears. When he spoke again, his voice was faint, unconvinced.

"The kids-mere's always a chance Isaac will try to make a run for it if we stay out too long. He's always looking for a chance to get away."

"His eyes won't open tonight. I put a little vodka in their cocoa."

"Really?" He put his hand up to her mouth, trying to push her back. She sucked his fingers, but he snatched his hand away and grabbed her chin so she had to look at him. "Where'd you get vodka?"

"At the shopping center, where I bought the cocoa and the pull-ups."

"So you had this all planned."

"I need you, Zeke."

"You have me. Don't you remember anything? Back at Jessup, visiting me? We held hands on the top of the table, not underneath. We held hands and we made our plans, and wasn't that a thousand times better than anything you ever felt before?"

"Yes, but… we're together now. There's no reason to wait anymore." She started to weep. "You don't love me. If you loved me, you would make love to me."

"I love you more than anyone has loved you or ever will. I love you so much that I won't let you treat me like one of the men you used to be with, back when you turned tricks in parking lots just so you'd have enough money to buy makeup and go to the movies."

"You always said you didn't mind, that you wouldn't hold that against me."

"I don't. But what we have has to be different."

"It's different, all right. Are you sure you're not a fag? Is that what happened to you in Terre Haute? You decided you like boys?"

He slapped her, and her tears were heavy enough to make her choke. She tried to get out of the car, but he seized her wrist. She wanted to rake her nails down his face, draw blood, show him that she would never again allow such treatment. Yet she was almost grateful for his hold on her because she honestly didn't know what would happen if he let her go. Her arms might go anywhere, strike anything, and there was no doubt in her mind that she could shatter the windows, the windshield, Zeke's face. Her own rages frightened her and she had tried hard, since the children were born, to control them. Zeke had brought them back. She could never be completely in control when Zeke was around.

"Just like my father," she said between hiccups. "Just like my father, the one thing you said you'd never do."

"You mustn't speak to me like that, ever," he said, holding tight to her wrist. "I can't allow that. Look, you're stressed out, it's understandable. You've been a trouper. All I ask is that you be patient for a few more weeks."

"Weeks? How many weeks? What is it that we have to wait for?"

"Just for some details to be worked out. Trust me. Have I ever lied to you?"

The fact was, he had not. Once, just once, he had withheld something from her, but even that had been from love, for love. Zeke had not trusted her with the information about his federal time at first, fearing that Natalie wouldn't allow herself to love him if she knew. But that wasn't really a lie.

"Have I ever wavered in my love for you? Did I ever give up?"

His voice was pitched low now, husky. This was the voice that had come to her in hundreds of arranged phone calls over the years, collect calls made to Lana's number. The complicated plans and timetables that these conversations had required had been as thrilling as a spy movie to Natalie. It got to the point where her blood would race just looking at a phone.

"When we met, you'd already had sex with dozens and dozens of men. Did those men love you?"

Natalie shook her head.

"For the past ten years, you've been married to a man who thinks he loves you, but he loves a person we made up, you and I. Would Mark Rubin love you as you are, if he knew everything about you? Would he forgive what I've forgiven?"

She rubbed her face against his shirt front, saying no and drying her tears at the same time.

"Who loves you?"

"You do."

"Who will always love you?"

"You, Zeke, you."

"Who do you love?" Almost singing it now. "Who do you love?"

"You, Zeke, you."

It was an old refrain, one repeated in letters and telephone calls.

"Did your mother love you?"

"No."

"Your father?"

"No."

"Does anyone else love you as much as I do?"

She broke the ritual. "The children."

Zeke paused. "Yes, the children. The ones you drugged tonight, so you could come out here and crawl all over me. The children love you, Natalie. But do you love them? Really, truly?"

"Of course I do."

"Don't be so quick. Think about what I'm asking. If you had to choose between me and them, who would you choose, Natalie?"

"Don't ask me that. I could never make that choice."