Waiting for Lila (12 page)

"
I love you, Lila
," the young ghost said. "
Do you love me back?"

Delilah whimpered softly.

"I love you, Lila."

Buddy's voice was gone, replaced by another one, older and stronger. In a semi-conscious state, Delilah frowned. This wasn't the way the dream was supposed to happen.

"Wake up, baby. I love you, and I'm still holding it all in my hand. Wake up and see."

Bill.

"Bill." She said it aloud this time, smiling as she snuggled closer to him.

"Are you ever going to open your eyes?" His voice sounded wistful.

"Maybe, maybe not," she murmured. "Make it worth my while."

There was a long silence, then he said, "The avocados are only a little bit mushy."

"Nope." She shook her head, her eyes still closed. "Tempting but not good enough."

Silence again, then, "There's a muscle on the top of my foot that I can make twitch anytime I want to."

She laughed. "Is there no end to your talents? I'll check out the twitch later, when my eyes are already open."

She heard him inhale slowly. "Okay," he said, "I didn't want to do this, but you asked for it. I'm forced to bring out the big guns." He paused. "Are you ready?"

She braced herself with exaggerated movements, gripping the side of the bed with one hand, then said, "Ready."

"If you open your eyes," he said slowly, "you can see the massive physiological restructuring of the human male anatomy when brought into intimate contact with a certain desirable female of the species, hereinafter referred to as the aforementioned male's sweet patootie."

"Massive, you say?"

"At least," he said modestly.

"Okay, I'll look."

Before she could get her eyes even halfway open, he landed on top of her, knocking the breath out of her, and they rolled, arms wrapped around each other, as they shook with laughter.

Bill dropped his head to the pillow, closing his eyes, a look of satisfaction on his face. "Five days. Can you believe we've known each other for only five days?" He opened his eyes and shook his head. "It's impossible. Didn't I see you there when I got my first Boy Scout badge? Weren't you there when Joe Mack and I stole Irene Gordon's padded bra from the girls' gym and put it in Snot-Nose Sidney's locker? I swear I remember you being there." He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the palm. "I remember you, love."

"It must have been some other gorgeous blonde," she said, trying to hide the fact that she had a lump in her throat. "If I had been there, I would definitely remember. Did you get the badge for stealing the bra?" Suddenly she frowned. "Did you say five days? What day is this?"

"Friday, the most wonderful day of my life."

"The conference is . . . the conference starts today." She grabbed his wrist, turning it to look at his watch. "Oh, my gosh, we've got less than an hour." She threw aside the cover and scrambled from the bed. "And you—Bill, you've got to speak at the opening ceremonies!"

"That's right," he said, stretching lazily.

She ran around, grabbing up her clothes from the floor, the chair, and the nightstand. "Bill, get up."

"Mmmmm."

She dropped to her hands and knees, peering under the bed for her underwear. "Bill, get up."

When he simply rolled over and sent her a beatific smile, she stood up and yanked the cover off him. "Get—" She broke off as the sight of his naked body caused her to forget what she had intended to say.
Lord, he had a gorgeous body.

He made a growling sound deep in his throat. "Do you know what that hungry look of yours does to me?"

He lunged at her, missing her by inches as she backed away, laughing. "We haven't got time. I can be late, but you can't. When they introduce you, someone is bound to notice that you're not there."

She stepped into her panties and was putting her arms through the straps of her bra when he dropped to his knees behind her and, with his hands on her thighs, began kissing her.

"What are you doing back there?" she said, peering over her shoulder.

"What do you think? I'm making love to the small of your back, of course."

"Of course," she said, laughing as she turned around.

"Okay, so I'll make love to your navel instead," he said, and proceeded to do exactly that.

Delilah wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes as she pressed his face to her stomach. After a moment she shook her head. "This has to stop—immediately."

Leaning down, she kissed the top of his head, then pulled away. "Hurry... go take your shower. We can finish this after your speech."

"Promise?" he asked, looking back at her as he stood in the doorway leading to the bathroom.

"Promise. Now go."

She quickly pulled on the rest of her clothes and ran a comb through her hair. She had her hand on the doorknob to leave when she suddenly turned and walked into the bathroom. Opening the curtain just a little, she said, "Kiss?"

As he soaped his chest he raised one brow and countered her question with one of his own. The single word made her gasp and laugh at the same time.

"Just a kiss this time," she said.

The kiss was wet and so was Delilah before it was over. Then, her breathing slightly labored, she ran her hand over his slick buttocks one last time and said, "I'll meet you here in a couple of hours," before reluctantly leaving him.

When she opened the door to the group's suite, she was greeted by the entire menagerie yelling in tandem, "You're late!"

"No shucks, Sherlock," she mumbled.

"You're also wet," Jack said, eyeing her damp blouse. "Is it raining in the hall?"

"Addie, get my ivory suit out of the closet," Delilah said, ignoring Jack. "Glory, underwear to match in the top drawer of the bureau. Mr. Moto, if you can find the shoes . . . they may still be in my suitcase."

As she talked she moved toward the bedroom, stripping off the clothes she had only just put on. By the time she was down to her underwear, she had reached the bathroom door.

"Booger," she said, opening the door, "you can—"

"I could soap your back for you," he offered.

"And I could soap your tongue for you." Addie's muffled but emphatic words came from inside the closet.

"The noose is growing tighter and tighter," Jack said.

Booger grinned. "Ain't it the truth." But he didn't look as though he minded at all.

"Booger, you can find my makeup case," Delilah said as she closed the bathroom door in his face.

Seconds later Delilah stepped into the steaming shower. Bill was probably through with his by now. She wished she could have shared it with him. Later, she told herself, smiling.

Delilah heard the bathroom door open, then Glory said, "Dee, I'm putting your underwear and makeup case here by the sink."

"Thanks, Glory."

"Addie sent Jack and Booger on down to save seats for us." Glory paused. "I take it you like Dr. Shelley. Do you think hell do?"

Delilah closed her eyes, feeling the melting sweetness she always felt when she thought of him. "Bill," she said softly, then louder, "Yes, I think Dr. Shelley might work. He might be just exactly what I was looking for."

Bill had told her not to think about tomorrow, but Delilah couldn't help it. She knew from their talks that he was a general practitioner, which meant there wouldn't be fabulous wealth the way she had planned. But Delilah could adjust. With both their practices there would be security. She could put all those years of poverty and desperation behind her. And she would have Bill.

After last night he understood that she couldn't give him love, but he seemed to accept it.

Pushing the hair off her forehead, she frowned. Why did that suddenly seem wrong? Why did it suddenly feel like cheating?

She lifted her face to the water, deciding she would put off worrying about it until later. She would think about this, and all the other things she had been putting off, later. Much later.

The ballroom of the Wimberley was packed with folding chairs and people when the three women walked in. From a seat near the back, Booger whistled loudly, waving both his arms to attract their attention.

The opening ceremonies began almost as soon as they sat down, progressing at a predictably slow rate. Delilah listened for a while, then found her thoughts drifting back to the night before, the night spent in Bill's arms. She remembered how he had held her, how he had still wanted her to believe in magic. Maybe now she did. She believed in the magic of his arms around her.

She could still hear his voice in her head, the things he had whispered to her in the darkness. The secret things. The comforting things. Bill had said he would carry all her pain himself. Bill had cried for her.

Where had he come from, this man who had willingly fought the giants of her past? This man who seemed to be made of nothing but love? And how could she ever, even in her wildest fantasies, have dreamed that someone like Bill might want someone like Lila?

Shifting restlessly, she felt the worries and the doubts began to ease into her mind, slowly at first, then with a debilitating rush.

It was all too wonderful, too perfect. As Glory had said, eventually there had to be a payback.

Suddenly Addie poked her in the arm and grimaced. Then Glory leaned across Addie and whispered, "I'm sorry, Dee. We really thought he was right. I guess we should have asked more questions."

Delilah glanced at them in growing confusion. Frowning, she joined in thcapplause that erupted when Bill walked up to the podium. What had been in his introduction to cause them to react in such a peculiar way?

At the front of the room Bill, looking unbelievably relaxed, waited for the applause to die away, then smiled. "Dr. Wygant has told you a little about my clinic, how I got it started, and the kind of people I treat. Now he's asked me to fill you in on some of the day-to-day problems I run into in working with these people, people whose income is at or below poverty level. I could tell you how much money the average person manages to live on, but you probably wouldn't believe me. I could describe to you the condition of their homes, but trust me, you don't want to know. I could tell you the condition of their bodies when I see them for treatment, but most doctors see mistreated bodies on a regular basis so there wouldn't be anything new in that. So instead of talking about my patients, I'm going to tell you about me. I'm going to tell you why I choose to run a free clinic in a part of town that no one goes into unless they're forced to ... or unless they happen to live there."

He paused and took a sip of water, then turned again to the audience, still at ease. "There are rewards," he said, "but the rewards are not monetary, and sometimes the rewards are so well hidden that you have to dig to find them. The fact is you pay a price for the privilege of treating these people. The work is damn hard, and on top of that, every single day you have to share their pain. Sooner or later it gets to you. There are times you hate where you are and you even hate your patients a little. You want to get away from so much mental and physical suffering. Some of these people have nothing left; they've reached the bottom. All you can do is keep their bodies going for one more day.

"But there are others who are still hanging on. Although they've lost all dignity, they ve managed somehow to hold on to hope and pride. The pride makes them resent free treatment and the doctor who's offering it. Hope rests with their children. They have dreams that their children will have a better life. So when the depression gets to you, you remember the children. You want to make a difference for the children.

"In a city as modern as Houston, so many people don't know what a proper diet is. They don't know the symptoms of malnutrition or lead poisoning or mental retardation. And sometimes you find yourself confronting diseases you were certain had been wiped out in the Middle Ages. So you not only patch them up and send them on to specialists, you teach them how to keep their children healthy."

He moved his gaze slowly over the crowd. "My clinic is small and underfunded and sometimes I wonder why I'm beating my head against a brick wall. Then I see a child—just one child—whose life has been changed. And I think maybe that child won't grow up to become an adult without dignity . . . without pride . . . without hope."

After taking another sip of water, Bill began to talk about the problems of funding. He talked about government cutbacks and how he used his spare time talking to civic organizations and corporations and private citizens, anyone who might contribute to the clinic. Then he began to talk about the desperate need for qualified doctors. He didn't ask the members of the audience to give up their practices as he had. He merely told them that if anyone who was interested could give just a few hours a month. It would make a difference.

And as he spoke, as his gentle, loving voice reached out and touched the people around her, Delilah sat as still as a stone statue. She could feel Addie and Glory watching her, but she couldn't turn her head to look at them. Then suddenly she rose to her feet and walked out of the hall.