Authors: Katherine Stone
Leslie took Eric’s hand. She would not let go again.
“Shall we go for a walk?”
“During halftime?” Charlie teased lightly.
“Charlie, my dear,” Robert said soberly. “We’re late in the fourth quarter. Even a miracle won’t save them now. I’m afraid the national championship has already been decided.”
“And the bad guys won?”
“The bad guys won.”
“Then, let’s go for a walk.”
Charlie loved their walks along the cliff edges of the Pebble Beach golf course, down the steep trails, when he held her hand to guide her to the white sand dunes, blown by the crisp, invigorating, salty sea breeze.
Charlie loved their long walks on the beautiful beach, but, then, Charlie loved everything about the past six days with Robert. They talked, they laughed and they drank cappuccino and hot chocolate and scotch in front of the pine-scented fire in their suite. They browsed in the quaint shops in Carmel and watched the sea otters frolic off Point Lobos. They had the famous Ramos Fizz brunch at the Highlands Inn and dined on abalone steak near Cannery Row. They drove along the Seventeen Mile Drive and south, along winding roads that hugged the rugged coastline, toward Big Sur. They watched the low, pale winter sun set from the porch at Nepenthe. And they watched it rise from Monterey Bay.
Six perfect days.
Tomorrow it would be over.
“It’s pretty windy,” Robert observed as he opened the door.
“In that case let me do something with my hair,” Charlie said. “I’ve spent too much time untangling it this week. I’m going to braid it. It will only take a minute.”
“Braid it?” Robert asked. “I haven’t braided anything since—”
“Your boy scout days?”
“The war,” Robert said calmly, remembering. It had been something to do during the long hours in camp or in the bunkers. They braided grass or string or strips of leather. It kept their hands busy, a welcome, if small, release for their anxious energy. Something to do other than simply wait. Or think.
“So?” she asked, turning her back to him, showing him the golden mane of pure silk that fell to her waist.
Robert’s strong hands became gentle as he carefully divided the silk into three strands, his fingers brushing lightly against her temples and her neck. Unsummoned, surprising sensations—pleasurable and frightening—pulsed through her body again and again as his fingers touched her as he gently wove the gold into a long, thick rope down her back.
“How do I fasten it?” he asked, holding the loose end.
“Here,” she said weakly, willing her hands not to tremble as she handed him a barrette.
“OK,” he said as he closed the barrette over her hair. Then he touched her shoulders, turning her to face him. He studied the new hair style and said, “I like it this way.”
I like it all ways, he thought.
Why did I feel that way when you touched me, Robert? she wondered.
That evening they sat in front of the marble fireplace in the suite warmed by the roaring red-orange flames.
“Did you make a New Year’s wish, Charlie?” Robert asked.
“A wish? Not a resolution?”
“Resolutions are just stepping stones to wishes. Just ways to make things the way you wish they would be. I prefer pure, undisguised wishes.”
Charlie smiled. How like Robert. Robert believed that all things were possible. He made things possible. Robert was the most shrewd, powerful and sophisticated man that Charlie had ever known.
And, still, Robert made wishes.
“What do you wish, Charlie?” he pressed.
“I wish,” she began slowly. I don’t make wishes, she thought. Wishes are too close to fantasies. My mother believed in wishes and fantasies. I don’t.
“You wish,” Robert urged.
Charlie sighed.
If
I allowed myself a wish, what would it be? For a long moment she was silent. When she spoke, finally, the slow, careful words came from her heart, not her mind.
“I wish,” she said simply, “that I knew where I belong.”
“What does that mean?” he asked gently, knowing what it meant.
“It means,” she began slowly. “It means that I didn’t know I was where I belonged—with my mother—until after she died. And I didn’t believe that I belonged with Eric until it was too late. Then he belonged with Victoria. And now—”
“Now he belongs with Leslie,” Robert said firmly, watching the eyes under the golden hair.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Charlie asked, realizing then that she hadn’t even asked Robert about Christmas in Seattle with Eric and Leslie and Leslie’s parents.
“Yes.” Robert said. “He does. Does it bother you?”
“No,” Charlie answered truthfully. “It did at first. I felt adrift. Again. Maybe I still do, given my wish, but I’m doing all right.”
“I know you are. You always do,” he said, gazing thoughtfully at the beautiful woman who was forced to be her own island, forced to be strong, forced to take care of herself. Even as a little girl she was alone, independent. No one had ever taken care of her. Not even the people who loved her. Not Mary. Or Eric. Or him.
None of them had underestimated her strength, but they had all underestimated her needs.
“I’m just a survivor, I guess,” Charlie admitted a little wistfully.
Just
, Robert mused. Your life should be more than just survival.
They left Carmel early the following morning. Robert’s direct flight to Philadelphia was scheduled to leave from San Francisco International Airport at ten.
“Are you all right?” Robert asked, breaking a silence that had lasted for twenty miles, from Santa Cruz to Santa Clara.
“Yes,” she answered quickly, startled. “Why?”
“You’re driving about twenty miles an hour below the speed limit.”
“Am I?” Charlie asked, glancing at the speedometer. Robert was right. Charlie depressed the accelerator, shrugged and added sheepishly, “I guess it’s the vehicular equivalent of dragging my heels.”
“Why?”
“This has been so nice.”
“It’s been wonderful,” Robert said and paused, watching her reaction to his words. He couldn’t tell. Then he asked, “You don’t mind going back to work, do you?”
“No. Not really. No.” I
just don’t want you to leave
.
“Sounds a little unconvincing, counselor. I thought you liked your job.” Was it just because of Eric? Or was there more to Charlie’s uncertainty?
Talk to me, Charlie
.
“It’s a good job.” But it’s not where I belong, she thought. Not anymore. Where do I belong?
They drove in silence for five minutes. Charlie needed to constantly remind herself to maintain the car’s speed. Her inclination was to let it slow down. She had to fight it.
“I wonder if you could pass the Pennsylvania Bar,” Robert said mildly. A comment, not a question. Charlie didn’t have to answer.
“The Pennsylvania Bar? Of course I could!” she exclaimed confidently.
“Why?”
“Because any time you get disenchanted with this job, you’re welcome to join me,” Robert said, taking care to sound casual. Casual but sincere. He added, “Any time.”
Charlie didn’t answer. She just gnawed thoughtfully at her lower lip as they approached the airport.
The departing passenger area was tangled with cars and buses and taxis filled with holiday travelers returning home. Charlie stopped the car in front of the United terminal. Without warning, her eyes filled with tears.
“Charlie?” Robert asked, gazing at her sad, wet eyes, touching her chin gently with his finger.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t?” he murmured softly, moving beside her, kissing her damp eyes, her flushed cheeks and, finally, her warm full lips.
It wasn’t the kiss of a father. Or a guardian. Or even a dear friend.
It was the deep, probing, passionate kiss of a man who wanted her. A man who had wanted her for a very long time.
“I don’t have to leave now, Charlie. Not this minute. Why don’t we go somewhere?” Robert whispered, suddenly aware of the crush of cars and humanity that surrounded them. They had no privacy, and they needed privacy.
Trembling, her heart racing, Charlie shifted the car into gear. She wove through the traffic with difficulty, trying to concentrate on driving but wholly distracted by Robert’s presence and the memory of his kiss. And by her reaction, by how much she wanted him.
Miraculously, Charlie negotiated the airport traffic in the departure area. As she drove away from the main terminal, she began to shake deep inside. What was she doing? What were
they
doing? Where was she taking them? She knew with certainty that she couldn’t drive all the way into the city to her apartment. It was much too far.
Without making a conscious decision, Charlie turned into the driveway of a motel. They were still on the airport grounds. She parked the car near the motel lobby.
She smiled weakly at Robert, her eyes obscured by a curtain of gold that fell across her face as she bent her head. She would wait in the car while he registered.
Robert returned five minutes later with a room key. He opened the car door for Charlie and held her hand as they walked to the room. Once inside the room he held her, feeling her tremble at his touch. He held her tighter.
Then he kissed her. Charlie returned his kiss eagerly, hungrily.
Desperately, Robert thought. Sensing her tension, he pulled away and looked into her beautiful, passionate, worried eyes.
“Do you want to do this?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want to push her. It was too important.
“Yes,” she breathed, finding his lips with hers. She began to unbutton her blouse as she kissed him.
“Charlie,” he said, placing his strong hands over her trembling fingers, stopping them. “There’s no hurry.”
“Yes there is.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Afraid?” he asked, suddenly concerned. Maybe it was too soon.
“I want this so much. I want it to be all right.”
“I want it, too. I’ve wanted it for a long time. It will be all right. I would never do anything to hurt you. Don’t you know that?”
“Robert?”
“Let me love you,” he said, pulling her hands to his lips, kissing their ivory softness.
“Love me, Robert,” she whispered.
At first, Robert controlled the pace of their lovemaking—a leisurely, sensual exploration—as he controlled her body, discovering desires and feelings that had been suppressed for so long. She responded to his touch instinctively, without thought or inhibition. Her natural sensuality escaped, freed by his careful sensitive fingers and his warm soft mouth. As he desire blossomed and she needed him urgently, he joined her, moving to her rhythm, her pace, meeting her passion with his own.
This is the ultimate closeness, she thought as they lay together, their bodies one. What I always knew—believed—it could be. Not a fantasy.
Just a wish come true.
“You wanted this for a long time?” she asked, remembering his words.
“A very long time. I remember a sixteen year old girl—”
“No,” she whispered.
“No,” he agreed. “But I was enchanted by you even then.”
“I was enchanted by you,” she said, realizing that it was true, that it had always been true. There had always been something so special about being with Robert, even in the beginning. “You wanted me to be with Eric, didn’t you?”
“Of course. I wanted it because it was what you, both of you, wanted. Because it made you both so happy.”
In the beginning
.
“And then?” Charlie asked, knowing the answer. And then Eric fell in love with Leslie.
“And then our trip to the Orient.”
“You thought about us,
this,
last June?”
“You’re not paying attention,” he said gently, kissing her.
“How can I?” she whispered into his mouth, lost for a moment in the warmth. She wanted to stay there forever, but she wanted to hear what Robert had to say even more. “Tell me.”
“I thought about us long before last June, but you and Eric were still trying to make it work.”
“Sometimes. If I had known—”
“A father doesn’t compete with his son. I wouldn’t do anything that could threaten Eric’s happiness. And you would not have been receptive. You would never have left Eric.”
Maybe not, Charlie thought, wondering what bound her so tenaciously to Eric for all those years. Of course she loved him. She always would. But they would never be in love again. Being with Eric seemed to be where she belonged. Or where she had once belonged. But maybe that was just because she didn’t belong anywhere else.
“Why didn’t you come to Maui in November?” she asked suddenly. Robert must have chosen to stay away for a reason. Something to do with her,
them
.
“You had to make peace with the reality of Eric and Leslie.”
“And you didn’t want to help me? To be there?” Because, she thought, you didn’t want to be my father or my guardian.