Sins of the Flesh. Fern Michaels
did during a storm.
Daniel groped for the telephone and was relieved to hear the dial tone buzz in his ears. He could almost picture a little old lady crawling out of bed and cursing as she shuffled in bare feet to her switchboard. He rattled off Reuben’s number when the operator came on, then waited. Would Reuben be home at nine o’clock on the Fourth of July? It didn’t matter; he knew Reuben’s haunts and habits as well as his own. One way or another he’d find him.
“Reuben, is that you?” Daniel spoke rapidly into the phone as soon as he heard his friend’s voice. “I was hoping I’d catch you home. How’s it going, old buddy?”
Reuben’s voice boomed over the wire. “It’s going, but that’s about it. How are you?”
“Great,” Daniel said lightly.
“I was sort of hoping you’d make it out here in April. I know, I know, law and order and all that shit. Read about you in The Wall Street Journal. Big man in Washington,” Reuben teased. Then his voice turned serious. “I heard about the offer to serve on the White House legal staff. Why’d you turn it down?”
“Crooked politicians aren’t my cup of tea, Reuben. You know that. And I use the word crooked loosely. It’s all a game, anyhow. It’s called Cover Your Ass, and by that I mean if I took the position, that’s all I would be doing, covering someone else’s ass. That’s not why I went to law school, and I’ll cover my own ass, thank you.” Both men laughed. “I’m doing just fine,” Daniel continued, “two full partners, three junior partners, and six associates. We’re turning business away. But enough of that. How’s Bebe?”
“Off on a toot somewhere. She hasn’t been home in three weeks.”
Daniel digested his friend’s statement. Even though it was said with no real emotion, he wasn’t going to touch it. “And the boys?”
“Simon’s up at Big Sur working for the summer. Dillon’s in camp.” Daniel couldn’t help but hear the pride in Reuben’s voice.
“Jesus, I miss you, Dan’l”
“You know, Reuben,” Daniel admonished gently, “planes travel both ways. You could come east to see me. If I remember correctly, I made the last trip.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about it and halfway promised myself I’d make the trip in August. How’s Nellie?” he asked fondly.
“All grown up. Starting college in September. She always tells me to send her regards when I speak to you. I’m going to hold you to it, Reuben.”
Reuben laughed. Christ, he loved Daniel! He loved him and knew him so well that he was aware something was wrong—something Daniel wasn’t telling him. “Why don’t you let me know the real reason for your call now, and let’s see if we can fix it together.” He heard Daniel’s sigh of relief. “Is it Rajean?” he asked.
“It’s a lot of things, Reuben. Today was…is…I have this feeling. This…I don’t know what it is, but something is wrong somewhere…you know how I get…”
Instantly Reuben became more attentive. Over the years Daniel’s hunches and gut feelings had been beacons of light, highlighting problems before they erupted fully. The Depression had been one of them. Without Daniel’s insight, Reuben and his close associates would have been wiped out like countless others during the crash of 1929.
“Jesus. Maybe it’s the war…I can’t put my finger on it.” Daniel heaved another sigh. “Anyway, I had to call to see if everything was all right with you.”
Reuben’s voice softened. “I appreciate that, buddy, but I’m okay and so is the family. The war is hanging over all of us….”
Daniel understood what Reuben meant without having to hear the words. Although they had talked about the war and how it was affecting France, they had never mentioned their time there, never spoken her name aloud—she was always synonymous with their worries about the war raging its way through Europe.
“I hear a storm in the background, maybe that’s what it is,” Reuben offered gently. “You always hated storms.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Daniel, if there’s anything I can do…if you need me, I can be on the first plane tomorrow.”
“I know that, and it’s not necessary. I’m sure it’s a combination of a lot of things. As long as you’re all right, I’ll turn in now. It was good talking to you, Reuben. Let’s do it more often.”
“Daniel,” Reuben said simply, “I talk to you every day in my thoughts. Sleep well.”
“You, too. Take care, Reuben.”
When Daniel replaced the phone, the sound of the rain beating across the roof in windy spurts enclosed him. He made a mental note to get together with Reuben as soon as possible. It had been too long.
As he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, Daniel went over their conversation and acknowledged a certain amount of relief. He peeked into Nellie’s room and found her sleeping soundly. It wasn’t until he settled himself in bed that it occurred to him to wonder if his wife was all right. For all his nervousness and worry, he’d not once considered her as the possible cause of his uneasiness. Carefully he rearranged the pillow behind his head and turned on his side, toward his wife’s side of the bed. The sight of the tidy, unused space didn’t elicit any feeling at all in Daniel. Rajean could take care of herself, as she was fond of informing him.
Forty-five minutes later Daniel was still awake, the sheets and pillow damp with his perspiration. He couldn’t imagine staring at the shadowy ceiling much longer. Maybe if he got up and took a shower, he’d feel better. The storm was still battering the summer house, which meant Rajean would be out all night. Not that it mattered.
Daniel had one foot in the shower when the phone jangled. Perhaps it was Reuben, he thought, calling back to see if he had settled down. He picked up the phone, a snappy retort ready, then frowned when he heard the operator’s sleepy voice tell him there was an overseas call for Daniel Bishop. What the hell? No one knew where he was except his answering service and Reuben. “This is Daniel Bishop speaking….”
“Very good, sir, hold for the French operator….”
“Jesus Christ! Yes, hello…hello? Speak louder, I can barely hear you. There’s a storm here. Who’s calling, Operator?” A spurt of crackly French came over the wire. “Mickey! My God, Mickey, is that you?”
“Daniel, please, we may be cut off momentarily…Daniel, please, you must come…I need…” Daniel strained to distinguish Mickey’s desperate words from the relentless crackle of overseas static. “Urgent…please…I beg you…we…we need you…not for myself…for…Daniel…you have to get him out…not safe for him…Daniel…speak to me…”
“Mickey, what is it?” Daniel shouted. “I can hardly hear you. Take who? Are you all right?” Jesus Christ, of course she wasn’t all right! Germany had invaded France.
The telephone stabilized, and he heard Mickey’s remembered voice clearly. “You must get Philippe safely to his father….”
Daniel’s eyes grew wild when he realized the line he held in his hand had gone dead. Desperately he jiggled the hook and tried dialing the operator. But it was no use. “Son of a bitch!” he roared. He stomped around the room trying to make sense of the phone call. Mickey, after all these years…Memories flooded his brain—all the reasons this woman could still hold a special rock-steady place in his heart. She needed him; she wanted him to go to France. “Jesus Christ” he exploded. “How in hell am I going to get to Europe with a war going on?” Why had Mickey called him and not Reuben? The love they had shared had been remarkable. Reuben would move heaven and earth for Mickey, and she had to know that, but she’d called him instead. Why? And who the hell was Philippe? “Take Philippe to his father,” she’d said. Great. But who was Philippe’s father?
Philippe…He’d heard the name, and not that long