The Puzzled Heart by Amanda Cross Read Free Book Online

wrongly either—on trust.
    Still, one might ask a question or two. Suppose this woman said, “I’m not a feminist, but I believe in equal pay.” Would one want to trust someone capable of such an answer with help against a violently antifeminist group? No, Kate thought, probably not.
    “What do you think of feminism?” Kate asked. If Dorothy thought that question odd, she gave no sign.
    “What do I think of it? It saved my life, that’s what I think of it. If I hadn’t run into feminism when I did, I’d still be wondering why I felt my family to be so wrong when everyone else seemed to be on their side. Suddenly, everyone else didn’t seem to be on their side. All that I’d been feeling, it turned out, others had been feeling; it was deliverance. Judging from the bits about you in
Who’s Who
, I gather you’re something of a feminist yourself. Am I wrong?”
    “No,” Kate said. “You’re not wrong. I’m married, you see,” she began.
    “Yes,” Dorothy said, “that was in
Who’s Who
too.”
    “You see, my husband’s been kidnapped. I hate the word
husband
but not so much as I hate the word
wife
. Still—”
    “What do you mean, kidnapped?”
    “Just that: forced into a car, taken away, held with threats to kill him if I don’t within a few days write a piece, dramatic enough to be published, about why I am abandoning feminism forever. Therefore, I conclude that the kidnappers are right-wing types who loathe feminism, loathe and fear it.”
    “And you think Kenneth and Ma might be involved?”
    “I’ve no reason to think so, but it’s the only lead I’ve got. When I heard about you, I thought, well, it’s worth a try.”
    “Is that why you borrowed the cuddly puppy?”
    “No. That was for other reasons. But I have to tell you that someone may have followed me here. I didn’t see them, but then I wasn’t thinking of being followed; I should have been. I’m afraid my mental powers have not been exactly sharpened by all this.”
    “And why should they? I need time to think,” Dorothy said. “I don’t know how to find out if my family’s involved, since I haven’t talked to them in several years, but I’ll think of something. Meanwhile, let’s hope they followed you. If they did, they’ll probably be in touch with me, and then we’ll know who they are. I tell you what: you better leave Banny with me; that will give you a reason to come back. Let’s say you asked me to house-train her for you.”
    “Oh, no,” Kate cried, astonishing herself. “I can’t leave Banny. I need her for other reasons I can’t go into.”
    “And as a talisman and comfort. Okay. But it will make our communicating harder. I tell you what. Give me a day, and bring her back here Thursday evening. I should have something to report, or maybe nothing. If there’s nothing, your coming here won’t matter. If there’s something, at least we can talk here then, and arrange somehow to meet somewhere else. Is it a date?”
    “It’s a date,” Kate said, and with that she had to be content.

Four

    B Y the time Kate took leave of Dorothy Hedge, the traffic on the Taconic and the Saw Mill Parkway had thickened. At each of the traffic lights on the Saw Mill, Kate was forced to stop, waiting impatiently for the cars ahead of her to move as the signal turned green. The powers that be had, thank whatever politician was responsible for so sensible a decision (and of course one did not know whom to thank; one seemed only to know in such matters whom to blame), removed the tollbooth on the Saw Mill Parkway, eliminating the worst of the bottlenecks. But soon afterward came the Henry Hudson Bridge, and long, long lines of those without tokens or E-ZPass waiting to pay the toll.
    As Kate sat powerless in her car, she could feel her frustration rising. Banny, sensing her tenseness, awoke and licked Kate’s face. It’s the passivity of it, Kate thought, the powerlessness, the complete lack of control, the regimentation.