16
“Are you marrying Chet?” Jack asked.
“Yes,” Shana answered.
“Why?”
Jack had walked his bike down to the swimming pool and left it leaning against a wall.
Shana Staufel was swimming her laps.
Otherwise the pool area was empty.
Jack waited for her to finish. He sat in a chair in the shade of the wall nearest the house. He could not be seen there from any of the windows, balconies of the house which overlooked the pool generally. He had learned that trick from Nancy Dunbar regarding the office windows next to the Japanese garden.
A small jet airplane circled over Vindemia to land at the estate’s airfield.
Shana had not seen Jack when she first came out of the water.
“Hey,” he had said in a low voice.
Drying her head with a towel, she had walked over to him. Today she was wearing a yellow bikini which brought wonderful light to her skin.
Now sitting on a cushioned chair near Jack she said, “So you know about Chet.”
“What do I know about Chet?”
She said, “He likes boys.”
“Does he like girls, too?”
She shrugged. “No way, Jose.”
“Then why are you marrying him?”
“It’s an arrangement.”
“Yes. Have you never heard of an arranged marriage?”
“A marriage of convenience?”
She nodded. “Very convenient.”
“What’s convenient about it?”
“There are certain ambitions,” Shana said, slowly, carefully, “which easily can be realized. For Chet to pass the Bar Exam, practice law locally, briefly, run for United States Congress, first, then, you know …”
“Buy the hearts and minds of the American people.”
“He’s very bright. He’ll be brilliantly staffed and advised. Already a book has been written for him contrasting the First and Fourteenth Amendments—”
“Written for him?”
“It will be published under his name. The ghostwriters have been well paid for both their work and their silence.”
“That’s nice.”
“The District’s present Congressman is expected to retire after this term.”
“How old is he?”
“Late forties.”
“Why is he retiring?”
“He’ll have enough funds to do whatever he wants.”
“Thanks to Chester Radliegh, Senior.”
“Yes.”
“He’s being paid to retire. Bribed.”
“Some people take their financial security very seriously. His congressional seat happens to be his major asset.”
“Which he can sell.”
“Yes.”
“To Radliegh and son.”
“Yes.”
“Sure. The Congressman shouldn’t sit on his asset. Whose ambition is this? Radliegh’s, or son’s?”
Shana sighed. “Chester believes strongly that what good can be done ought be done. With his father behind him, Chet can accomplish far more for this district, for the nation, maybe the world, than can the present incumbent.”
“I daresay. So it is believed that for his political career Chet needs a savvy, presentable wife.”
“You’re lookin’ at her.”
“There are gay members of Congress now.”
“Not from Georgia. Not at this time, there aren’t,” Shana said. “Sodomy laws have been removed from the books so recently here you can still see the dust from the eraser.”
“If this is Doctor Radliegh’s ambition, why is Chet going along with it?”
“Why not?”
“It means living a lie.”
“It would be fun. Chet’s very popular. All-American quarterback. Handsome. Bright. He’s got to do something with his life. Can’t live here playing Ping-Pong with his little sister all his life.”
“He doesn’t have to go into politics.”
“It’s what his father has always wanted. Chester is trying to shape Duncan up as the titular head, figurehead, whatever you want to call it, of the Radliegh business interests.”
“Good luck to him.”
“Yeah,” Shana said. “Good luck.”
“So Chet agrees to this marriage.”
“Agrees? Yeah. He agrees. We like each other well enough. Why not? He’s a bright, charming guy. As long as everything is understood. He gets to do what he wants, discreetly. This way Chet gets a degree of freedom, gets off Vindemia—”
“He’ll never be his own man in Washington.”
“Who ever is?”
“The Constitution expects a member of Congress to have a constituency of more than one.”
“One genius like Chester is probably worth more than the intellectual abilities of a sizable population.”
“So Doctor Radliegh knows his son is gay.”
“Yes. This is the arrangement he has made for his son.”
“It’s more than an arrangement. It’s a deal.”
“It’s a deal.”
“What happens to Chet if he doesn’t accept this deal?” Shana tried to make herself more comfortable in her chair. “Not stated.”
“What’s inferred?”
“Chet worries he’ll be cut off. Find himself on some South Pacific island selling pocket mirrors.”
“Nonsense. He must have his own abilities.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s all or nothing. If Chet wants the benefits of being Chester Radliegh’s son, which benefits are considerable, he has to conform to a pattern of behavior, at least image, which permits him to accomplish all that Chester Radliegh’s son can. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”
“Do you have any idea how Chet himself feels about this?”
Beautiful in her yellow bikini in her cushioned white rattan chair, Shana looked uncomfortable. “Rage.” She cleared her throat.
“What?”
“Rage. He’s enraged. He’s got his nose right up against a brick wall. His father pushed him into sports, football in particular. Chet found himself building this hunk body. Became All-American. His father pushed him academically. Chet became Phi Beta Kappa. History. His father pushed him through Law School. You see, Chester had this plan for him all along. Chet always knew he was gay. He was straight with his father about it. When Chet discovered his father had had this book written for him, he was furious. Hurt. When he discovered his father had established what you might call a retirement plan for the local incumbent congressman, he was even more furious. He flunked the Bar Exam. I believe he flunked it on purpose. Chet had never failed at anything in his life. He knows for a certainty that whatever he does he cannot satisfy his father. Being gay doesn’t worry Chet at all. It’s that he can’t satisfy his father no matter what he does. He can’t get away from his father’s ‘arrangements’ unless he gets entirely away, gives up everything. Do you see?”
“I guess.”
“Do you have a, you know what I mean, father, Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Does any of this seem familiar to you?”
Jack shook his head. “He’s never been a problem to me. Not enough of a one.”
“That’s nice.”
“Unusual, I guess. I mean … I don’t know what I mean.”
“Fathers are confusing.”
“I guess.”
“I told you about my father.”
“Yes.”
“A cheap, undisciplined weasel of a man who gladly rapes truth for a Mercedes-Benz.”
“So it was Doctor Radliegh who chose you to be Chet’s wife.”
“Yes. He brought me here last spring on the pretext of business and told Chet that he, Chet, is to marry me.”
“How did Chet react to that?”
“He gets to keep his … whatever. His stableboys.”
“Shana?” Jack asked. “Are you and Doctor Radliegh lovers?”
“Yes,” Shana answered.
“I see. Are you real lovers?”
“Oh, yes. Chester doesn’t play around.”
“Oh.”
“We have been for over a year. Since we found ourselves alone one weekend in Berlin. Neither one of us planned it, expected it. I didn’t. To me, Chester was Big Boss, as formal as a royal reception. It was unimaginable to me he would ever react, relate to me, in any way, except as courteous boss. There was a snowstorm. Some business people didn’t show up for dinner. We found ourselves having dinner together. Laughing. Then throwing snowballs at each other in the street. Then licking the snow off each other’s faces. Then in bed together. Have you met Mrs. Radliegh?”
“Briefly.”
“She can’t stand success. She thought she was marrying a college instructor. She found herself some kind of an Empress. It depressed her totally. Some people can’t stand changes. Her misery depressed him totally. She works at it. She made him miserable. Chester could never bring himself to divorcing the poor mess. I understand that. Well, her misery depresses him less now.”
“Since you two got together.”
“Since he discovered it’s her nature and there is nothing he can do about it.” Then she said, “Yes. Since we got together.”
“Does Chet know you and his father are lovers?”
“No. He thinks I’m marrying him for money. Social position.”
“Shana, you’ve been frank about everything else. Are you doing this for money, social position?”
“I really love Chester.” She seemed more comfortable in her chair. “I believe you do.”
“I love him deeply. I never dreamed of knowing, loving such a man. I never could have conceived such a man existed. Or that such a man would need me, love me.”
“I’m beginning to get the picture,” Jack said. “Chet in Washington. You here at Vindemia.”
“Sounds nice to me.”
“Would you have children by Chester?”
“We’ve talked about it. I would like to.”
“Surely then Chet would know you and his father are lovers.”
Shana smiled. “I expect there would be a proper family resemblance among the children.”
“Um,” Jack said. “I can’t think what could go wrong in such a marriage.”
She smiled. “Convenient.”
“As you said: very convenient.”
“So,” Shana said. “You know about Chet. And me. And Chester. What a good little investigative reporter you are. What else do you know? Who is threatening Chester?”
“Now I see the level of your concern.”
“I think I’m the only one who is concerned about him.”
“You may be. You and Mrs. Houston.”
“She’s a good old thing.”
There was the sound of children in the air.
“It’s pretty sad,” Jack said. “Mrs. Radliegh must be half crazed with drink and drugs.”
“Eccentric,” Shana said.
“Duncan seems to have a taste for drugs of another kind.”
“Is that what’s wrong with him? I thought he was just a dumb slob.”
“That, too. He lies. He cheats. He wants $650,000 for a new car.”
“Let him ride a bike.”
“Alixis thinks she would like life better without her father interfering.”
“Without her father, Alixis would be standing on a street corner in white boots and a leather miniskirt.”
“Beauville—”
“We’re being invaded,” Shana said.
A boy about nine years old, naked except for water wings, entered the pool area. Big-eyed, he stared across at them.
“Chester the Third,” Shana said. “Except I forget his last name. Among them, Amy’s seven children have three different last names.”
Jack said, “I guess we’re not supposed to be caught in social intercourse, you and I. But none of the other rules around here seem to be unbroken.”
Shana said, “Rules ought not be broken.”
One by one four more children tottered into the pool area. Except for water wings they were all naked. Their bodies were entirely tanned. Their bodies all had good shape to them, less baby fat and more muscle than usual for such young children.
A gaunt woman carrying a two year old entered the pool area. She was followed by a uniformed nanny carrying an infant.
Jack stood up. “I guess I had better go.”
“Me, too.”
“Where are you going?” Jack asked. “What are you going to do now?”
“Why?”
“Just curious. I wonder what you do around here, how you spend your time. I wonder what Vindemia means to you.”
“I’m going to the gym to work out.”
“So you can mention to Doctor Radliegh that you did?”
“Because I want to.”
Jack crossed to the wading pool. The gaunt woman was setting the two year old into the water.
“I don’t know your name,” he said to the gaunt woman.
“Amy MacDowell is the short version.”
“Well, I guess I should leave,” Jack said to her. “Now that you’re all here.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” She waved good bye to Shana as she left the pool. “We could use an extra pair of eyes. Lifeguard.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Jack returned to his chair in the shade. Happily the children were jumping off the edge of the pool to splash each other. They did not lack for energy.
Amy carried the infant into the shade. She sat in the chair near Jack where Shana had sat.
She began to suckle the infant.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” she said.
“Jack.”
She pointed to one of the boys. “His name is Jack. John. Named after his father.”
Of the seven children, four were boys. “These are all your children?”
“Yes. Aren’t they beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“I do this really well.”
“What?”
“Have children. It took three husbands, so far, but each one of them was handsome, healthy, and bright enough.”
“You’re not yet thirty?”
“Twenty nine.”
“Wow. Seven children while you’re under thirty. Pardon me. I just haven’t met that before.”
She laughed.
“And you want more children?” he asked.
“Yes. Lots.”
“Good thing you’re rich.”
“Yes. Isn’t that nice? Has anyone ever told you what a pleasure it is to nurse a baby?”
“It looks nice.”
“Envious of little Robert here?”
“I guess so.”
“Were you nursed?”
“I have no idea.”
“Then I suspect you weren’t. I believe nursed babies are much better off.”
“Your husbands—? Never mind.”
She laughed. “Well, in order to have all these children, you see, really I’m better off living here at Vindemia, where there is plenty of help. The men I’ve married think they would be happy living here. But, in time, they discover they’re not a bit happy. Each has found Vindemia much too confining.”
“I can understand that.”
“And here they either work for my father, or they don’t work. There isn’t anything else to do. Slowly they get restless, and finally, you know, make the speech of apology, say they can’t take it anymore, they have to go live their own lives. We’re all good friends, I and my ex-husbands, that is. I understand.”
“You wanted these kids pretty badly, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t you think having lots of nice children is a good use of wealth?”
Jack said, “I’ve seen worse uses.”
Politely, conversationally, Amy then asked Jack personal questions, where he had been born, brought up, schooled. He answered as well as he could.
She said, “You’re old enough to be married. You never were?”
“No.”
“I expect you have a fairly hopeless view of marriage.”
“Except to have children, maybe …”
“Don’t you want children?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure,” she said. “It’s the only reason to get married. Just to keep the paperwork straight.”
Jack said, “Shedding yourself of three husbands must have cost more than a little.”
“Oh, that,” she said. “I have a way of handling my father.”
“How’s that?” he asked.
“If he doesn’t do what I want I’ll tell the world he sexually abused me as a child.”
“Of course not. But he manipulates, tries to control everybody. One has to have a way of manipulating him, don’t you agree? His reputation, that he’s Mister Perfect himself, perfect husband, father of a perfect family, is his soft spot. It’s the only weapon I have, you see.”
“It’s not very nice.”
“It works.”
“Would you actually use it? Say such a thing?”
“Of course. And he knows it.”
The oldest boy, about nine years old, was standing between Jack’s knees. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jack.”
“Jack, will you come play with us?”
Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to play with the children in the pool.
He was sure he wanted no more of the conversation with Amy MacDowell.
Suddenly the beautiful day, the beautiful flowers, the beautiful pool, the beautiful children seemed to have become splattered by something foul.
“Go ahead,” Amy said.
Jack stood up. “If I touch your naked children in the swimming pool will I be accused of sexual child abuse?” His voice sounded stronger to him than he had intended.
“Of course not.” Amy chuckled. “What would be the point?”
Jack enjoyed himself more than he thought.
Cupping his hands under water, one by one the children stepped into his hands so he could lift them out of the water and fling them backward. They landed on their backs, laughing, making lovely splashes.
The children then began a game of King of the Mountain with him, each trying to climb him, sit on his shoulders, throw the others off. His hair got pulled and his ears tugged.
The children wriggled around with the energy and humor of monkeys.
The games continued longer than he expected.
“Jack?” Amy called him from the side of the pool. “You’d better come out of the water, now. Your back is bleeding.”
Jack put his own hand on his back and saw it was so.
“Besides,” Amy said. “The sun will scar your cut.”
While Jack was putting on his socks and sneakers, Amy said to him, “Don’t tell anybody what I told you. I’d hate to have Alixis use it against my father, too. You know what I mean?”