A Love for All Seasons (20 page)

He gazed down at her for a few moments, then reached out to lightly caress her bare shoulder. Her skin felt soft to his fingertips. In spite of himself he ran his hand down the length of her arm.

In an instant she opened her eyes and reached out with her other hand, clamping it around his arm. Their eyes met and held. “Lay down with me, Jack,” she said softly.

He couldn't refuse her. He nodded, and she let go of his arm. He slipped the covers back and slid between the sheets, on his side, facing her. The double bed seemed very small. He moved as close to her as he dared. Feeling an overwhelming need to touch her, he reached out, aiming for a part of her that would be covered. He didn't know if he could handle touching bare skin.

He settled for her lower back, just above the curve of her hips. A satisfied sigh escaped from Alicia's lips as she stretched her body lengthwise against his. Her head fit nicely in the niche between his chin and his chest. Her left arm reached out and settled near his arm, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Lying and holding each other this way gave him the wonderful sense of intimacy, and he knew he wanted to take care of Alicia forever. He still didn't know what had caused her to go on this bender, but he felt confident that she would tell him soon.

Jack opened his eyes. He realized immediately that he'd dozed off. Alicia's soft breathing next to him told him she, too, was sleeping. The bed's high head and foot boards blocked out much of the light, but he could hear the TV playing softly behind them. He hadn't bothered to turn it off.

He slipped out of bed and turned off the set with the remote. It only took a few seconds, but when he returned Alicia startled him by saying, “Weren't you going to say good-bye?”

“No, because I'm not leaving. I just got up to turn off the TV.” He lifted the covers to get between them.

“Do you always sleep in your jeans?”

He hesitated. They were getting into territory that he wasn't sure she was ready for, at least not emotionally. “No.”

“Then take them off.”

The room was completely dark, but his eyes had focused enough to see that she propped her upper body on one elbow. The spaghetti strap of the elevated shoulder had fallen down. He could create a sticky mess in his shorts just thinking about the curves and warm skin beneath that nightgown.

Quickly he stripped to his shorts and got back into bed, laying on his back so she wouldn't feel his arousal. This wasn't the right time to make love. Alicia snuggled against his side, and his arm went around her.

“I'm glad you came to me tonight, Jack,” she said softly. “I wanted to call you. I guess I was too proud. But I'm glad you called me.”

“I was worried about you.” His arm inadvertently tightened around her shoulder.

“Sometimes pride can be a terrible thing,” she said, so faintly he could hardly hear.

“Don't worry about it,” he mumbled, already falling asleep.

The feel of something wet on his shoulder woke him. He glimpsed at the large red digits of the alarm clock on the Bombay chest. Two-forty-five. Alicia's face still nuzzled against his shoulder. He quickly realized the source of the wetness.

It was tears.

He shifted position, facing her. “Alicia, what's wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I'm all right.”

“The hell you are. People don't cry for no reason.”

“I'm not crying. I just got a little emotional, and one tear slipped out of me.”

“You know you can talk to me about it any time you want,” he said gently.

“I know. I'm not ready yet. I'm all right, Jack. Go back to sleep.”

“All right.” But Jack had no intention of going to sleep. Instead he lay awake and listened carefully for any sounds of crying. When her even breathing took over, he impulsively pressed his lips to her now-dried cheek. Alicia stirred, moving her head so that her lips replaced where her cheek had been moments before. Her arms went around his neck as they kissed deeply.

His reservations about making love to her quickly melted away. She clearly wanted and needed him as much as he did her. In a blur of movements they shed their clothes. “I've got protection in my wallet,” he said breathlessly between kisses.

“For God's sake, hurry up.”

 

Afterward they snuggled together on their sides, facing each other. He dozed off and on, not wanting to fall asleep until Alicia appeared to be resting comfortably. The sound of her even breathing made him relax. Obviously something happened in the elapsed time between leaving her mother's home yesterday afternoon and this evening when he called her, something that disturbed her even more than the death of her mother.

He just couldn't imagine what it could be.

All Things Must Pass

H
e
found himself glad he'd thought to pack that extra shirt. Just before leaving for work he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “Alicia, I'm about to leave. You'll have to come and lock the door behind me.” When she didn't respond he shook her shoulder gently.

She slowly opened her eyes. “My head hurts,” she announced.

“I suppose it does. I saw that pitcher of liquor.” The mixture had the same coloring as the Kamikazes she'd mixed the first night they met, back in the fall. “It was nearly empty. Alicia, you can't continue drinking like that.”

He expected her to argue, but she merely said in a meek voice, “I know.”

“I've got to go, but can we talk later?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“We'll go get some dinner when I get in. Can I call anyone for you?” As he promised to do, he called Rhonda last night while Alicia showered, just to let her know that no harm had befallen her.

“No, thanks. I'll call Shannon and let her know I won't be in again today.”

 

When he returned after work she looked much more like herself. Her face looked back to normal, and she wore jeans and a striped sweater.

“You look great,” he said, smiling.

“I don't feel too bad, either. I took a nice long shower. And I haven't had anything to drink. You can check the pitcher.”

“I don't have to check, Alicia. I believe you.” He patted the pockets of his overcoat. “I guess there's not much point in my taking off my coat. You look ready to go.”

She glanced at the sports coat and tie he wore under his unbuttoned coat. “Maybe I should change. I'm a little underdressed—”

“Don't worry about it. You'll still be the best-looking woman at the restaurant.” He loosened, then removed his tie. “Is there anyplace in particular you'd like to go?”

“There's a Mediterranean place down on Seventy-Seventh that I like. It's quiet, so we can talk.”

As they walked Alicia relayed what happened the day before, her shouting match with Daphne, and her visit with Sam McDaniel. She left out the circumstances of her parents' deaths, only saying that they died, leaving her an orphan, or as Daphne had put it, “an orphaned little nobody.” It was all too raw, too new. Eventually she'd tell him about it, but right now she couldn't handle it. It wasn't a lie, not really…just not the whole truth.

“Alicia, I'm…speechless,” Jack said honestly when she was through. “I understand why you went on a bender. I'd probably do the same thing if I suddenly found out I wasn't who I'd always thought I was. And what a terrible way to find out.” It would have been so much better if Alicia heard the truth from Caroline, a loving mother figure, than a spiteful creature like Daphne.

“I woke up yesterday thinking I was Alicia Timberlake,” she concluded. “I went to bed as Alicia Clements.”

“You're still Alicia Timberlake,” Jack pointed out. “Your name doesn't mean anything. And it's just your last name at that.”

Their conversation temporarily stopped as they arrived at the restaurant, were seated and looked over the menu.

After they placed their orders—neither of which included alcohol—Jack smiled at her across the table. “So what happens now?”

“I'm going to see if I can track down anyone in Hartford who knew my parents.”

He hesitated, not wanting to offend her on what obviously was a sensitive topic. “Alicia, I can readily understand your wanting to talk to people who knew your parents, but do you think that's wise? A lot of neighborhoods that were merely poor forty years ago have become unsafe now.”

“You're absolutely right. But when I said ‘I,' I didn't mean it literally. I intend to hire a PI.”

“Won't that be expensive?”

“I'm sure it won't be cheap,” she admitted. “But it's not like I can't afford it, Jack. My father left me money when he died, and I just inherited more from my mother.” Her attempt at a chuckle sounded like she was choking. “My mother, my father. I don't know how to differentiate my two sets of parents.”

“Isn't it safe to say that when you make that reference you mean the Timberlakes? They're the ones who raised you, Alicia, the ones who gave you a good life. You have no reason to feel guilty. If anything, your birth parents would be happy that you were so well taken care of.” Personally, he felt that the Timberlakes deserved to be identified as parents. It wasn't the fault of Alicia's birth parents that they both died young, but the fact remained that Mr. and Mrs. Timberlake provided the parenting.

He wondered what happened to the Clementses, how they died.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

He shifted in his seat, another question on his mind. “Alicia, what about you and Daphne?”

“Who?”

The I-don't-know-who-you're-talking about attitude told him Alicia had no intentions of having any further contact with her sister. “I guess that answers that.”

“It's easy for me to not see her, but I feel for Martha. Daphne will make her life miserable. If I know her she'll have poor Martha peeling grapes for her…at three in the morning.”

“So Martha's going to stay on?”

“For the time being. I haven't had an opportunity for a real heart-to-heart with her, but we've spoken about what would happen after Mom passed. She said that she and Marvin want Tyrone and Melody—their kids—to graduate from Staples High School in Westport. For one thing, it looks nice on a college application. For another, both Tyrone and Melody have friends there, and they're active in several sports. Transferring to a high school in Bridgeport will not only compromise their education, but disrupt their athletic programs and social lives as well.

“That's something else on my to-do list,” she said. “Put in some inquiries about anyone who's looking to hire a live-in housekeeper. I'm not sure how many estates have housing for a family of four, unless their caretakers live in. That's what makes the Lewises' situation different. In many cases the caretaker and the maid are married and they have a one-bedroom cottage on the property, but Marvin never took care of the grounds at my…at my parents' house, we always used a service for that. And they have a son and a daughter, so they would have to have three bedrooms.”

“That'll be nice if you can find something for her.”

“At least Mom left instructions that give Daphne no power to let her go without an investigation by the attorney and myself. Mom didn't try to force Daphne to be close to Martha, but deep down, I think she knew what Daphne would try to do, or else she wouldn't have left instructions limiting her power.”

“Why does Daphne dislike Martha?”

“Because she knew how fond Mom was of her, and she hated that. Daphne wanted Mom all to herself. She already knew she had Pop twisted around her little finger, but that wasn't enough for her. She felt Martha wasn't worthy of Mom's affections because she didn't have a privileged background and she worked as a housekeeper. So of course Daphne had a field day when Mom told her about me.”

He reached across the table, where her hand rested, and covered it with his. “Alicia,” he said gently after taking a moment to think, “this is a lot for any one person to absorb. A shock like that after thirty-five years. It's something that can be hard to recover from, maybe impossible.” About to suggest that she consider counseling, he stopped when he felt her hand, so relaxed just a moment before, suddenly stiffen under his. “Something wrong?”

“It sounds suspiciously like you're about to make the same suggestion that my parents' attorney made.”

“What did he suggest?”

“That I get psychiatric counseling.”

“I get the impression you don't think much of that idea.”

“No, Jack, I don't.”

Her words came out flatter than the Midwest prairie, he noted. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling his arm back. “I'm not going to preach on the subject, but I will say this. There's nothing shameful about seeking out professional counseling. It can be an important factor in both acceptance and healing.” When she opened her mouth to object he pressed his index finger vertically against his lips. “Why don't we just let it drop? Besides, our dinner's here.” He pointed with his chin toward the server, who rapidly approached their table with two plates balanced on a tray held on her shoulder.

 

After dinner he paid the check and they set out to return to her apartment. “Are you up to walking back, or should we get a cab?” he asked.

“Oh, let's walk. I like walking after eating, especially in the winter.”

The late December air felt crisp and clean to Jack's nostrils in a city not known for good air quality. Holiday decorations brightened the restaurant and shop windows. He captured her gloved hand in his. “Alicia, my family is taking a reunion cruise in February. We try to do something together every couple of years where everyone participates. The ship leaves from Fort Lauderdale. We'll be out for five days and four nights. I'd like you to come with me.”

“Oh, I don't know, Jack. I'm not much for family gatherings.”

He'd expected her to hedge. “I think it'll be good for you.” He wanted to tell her his family would love her, but instinct told him not to press the issue.

Now that he knew of Alicia's adoption, her negative views on love had started to make more sense to him now. Surely nothing in her life with the Timberlakes had given her cause to feel that love equated weakness. He wondered if she'd unknowingly harbored in her unconscious her time as an orphan, her parents suddenly gone from her as a child too young to understand their disappearance. The confusion she undoubtedly felt paired with other experiences in those early days might have affected her way of thinking to this day.

Not that he had the qualifications to make any diagnoses. It would take a skilled psychoanalyst to figure that one out.

“All right, I'll ask you something more immediate,” he said lightly. “What are you doing New Year's Eve?”