Free Days of Winter by Cynthia Freeman

men were this reluctant to relinquish their freedom. And though Jocelyn tried desperately to ignore his lack of interest, she was thoroughly miserable during what should have been the happiest time of her life.
    Rubin’s depression was almost unbearable. He had received no letter from Magda. Going each day to the post office box, where all her letters were supposed to be sent, he would take out the tiny key, open the metal door, and look inside in vain. Why hadn’t she written? Was she ill? Surely Solange would have written if she was? Rubin became obsessed that she had found someone else. …
    Finally, he went to the nearest phone and placed a call to Emile’s apartment. When he reached it, the connection was bad, filled with static. “Where is she?” he shouted into the instrument, trying to be understood above the maddening noise. All he could hear were muffled sounds of a voice he believed was Mignon’s. “In Cannes …” Those two words were the only ones which sounded distinct. Then the line went dead. Rubin held the receiver in his clenched hand for a long, very long time, then placed it carefully on the hook.
    It was five when he returned home, after wandering around aimlessly. As he climbed the stairs to his room, he heard the voice of Martin, the butler. “Sir?” he said.
    Rubin turned his head.
    “Sir, your father has asked to see you in his study.”
    “Thank you, Martin.”
    Nathan was seated in the big leather chair at one side of the Georgian fireplace, a chair he had occupied for many years. He was shocked to see Rubin looking so distraught and disheveled.
    “Sit down, Rubin …”
    Rubin seated himself across from his father, gazing into the fire. Nathan poured two brandies, handed one to Rubin and kept the other himself. He took a sip.
    “Rubin, the time has come when you and I must talk. Obviously something disturbs you. Please tell me what it is. You can speak freely, there are only the two of us here.”
    Rubin remained silent
    Nathan continued, “Rest assured, I will understand.”
    Rubin looked at his father as though he wanted to confide, then retreated into himself again.
    “Since you returned from Paris, you’re a different man. We no longer recognize you. Your mother is especially perturbed and you’ve made Jocelyn desperately unhappy. You don’t have the right to hurt that dear loving child, who is, I remind you, soon to become your wife.”
    Rubin winced, in spite of himself.
    “Are you that frightened of marriage?”
    Rubin answered so softly Nathan had to strain to hear. “No … not marriage, exactly.”
    “Then it must be Jocelyn.”
    “I’m afraid it is, sir. A man can’t love merely because it’s … expedient.”
    Nathan got up and paced the floor, hands behind his back. “Expedient?” he said. “That’s a strange word, Rubin. Are you implying that this marriage is only a merger between the Sassoons and the Hacks?”
    Well, isn’t it? Rubin wanted to answer but he couldn’t, not when he saw the troubled look on his father’s face.
    “Do you feel that we’ve forced you into an arrangement?”
    “We were certainly thrown together a lot. And suddenly, somehow, marriage seemed to be the next logical step. At the time, it all did, I admit, seem so right …”
    “But everyone assumed that your affection for Jocelyn was real … in fact, no one was aware that you were anything less than deeply in love. This is what I find hardest to comprehend.”
    “My affection at the time was certainly genuine. Jocelyn is a lovely young woman—”
    “But you’ve suddenly fallen out of love? How could that happen in so short a time?”
    Rubin was silent
    “Rubin? …why did you stay in Paris so long?”
    Running his hands through this thick black hair, Rubin looked at the vaulted ceiling while Nathan waited for an answer. Finally, he spoke. “Because … well, it happens I’ve fallen completely in love with a woman in Paris. …”
    Nathan sighed deeply. Replenishing