When the Sun Goes Down (9 page)

Read When the Sun Goes Down Online

Authors: Gwynne Forster

“Well, sir, if I h-helped in any w-way,” she sputtered, “I’m gr-grateful.”
“You certainly have, and I’m the one who’s grateful,” Gunther said.
 
Later that day, Frieda sat in her room thinking first of Edgar’s having said Gunther was nuts about her, then musing over Gunther’s remarks that she was the inspiration for the game he created. “I don’t want to be a fool led by a fool,” she said aloud, “but what if Edgar was telling the truth?” In the future, she’d pay careful attention.
Hmm. Did Gunther have a girlfriend?
“You know, it’s strange that no women have called or come to see Mr. Farrell since he’s been sick, none but his sister, I mean,” Frieda said to Mirna during their afternoon tea and chat time. “That man is definitely not gay.”
“Quit fishing, Frieda. If he was gay, he wouldn’t tell me,” Mirna said. “There was a woman who called here occasionally when I first came. Sometimes he’d take her call, but most of the time he wouldn’t. I figured he was breaking up with her. But like I said, I likes my job, so I minds my own business. And people who do that usually don’t create problems for theyselves.”
Wasn’t it strange that Mirna would give her that lecture? Frieda mused as she prepared to give Gunther his four-o’clock regime of medicine and vitamins. She’d been through a lot and suffered a lot to get where she was, and she’d done it without help from anybody. Shortly after turning seventeen, she’d run from her adoptive parents’ home to avoid more of her adoptive father’s sexual depravity. She’d gotten a bus from the little hamlet of Bixby, North Carolina, to Baltimore, Maryland. Working at night and trying to finish high school in a strange, big city had been difficult, but she’d made it, and she was more proud of that than of getting her LPN.
She hadn’t been a saint, and she’d done things that she later regretted. Because she blamed her birth mother for her adoptive father’s brutality, she hunted the woman like a posse after cattle thieves until she’d finally identified her; then she found her and did what she could to destroy her birth mother’s marriage. In the meantime, she’d seduced Glen Treadwell, the woman’s beloved stepson, and done it for meanness. But in the end, she’d paid bitterly, because she fell hard for the man and there was no future in it for either of them.
Frieda reasoned that a good-looking man like Gunther Farrell could have his pick of women. So why weren’t there any around him? He wasn’t gay, because he’d had an erection the first time she massaged his back. He had tried to hide it, but she saw it. She hadn’t paid much attention to it, because it had happened with any number of her male patients. But if he was interested in her, as Edgar said, her life could change for the better.
“I promised the good Lord that if I could get over Glen, I wouldn’t do anything else underhanded,” she reminded herself aloud when she returned to her room. “So I’m gon’ encourage Mr. Farrell if I get the chance, but I’m not gon’ try that sexy stuff. It could backfire, and this is a real good job.”
While Frieda considered the possibility of making a change in Gunther’s life, Carson was beginning to realize that he wanted more from Shirley than he’d let himself believe. He walked out of the researchers’ cubicle section in Baltimore’s Enoch Pratt Free Library, shaking his head. Leon Farrell had been comparing certain properties of wood and aluminum, obviously in the interest of his work on robots, but nothing personal of the man remained in his little cubicle. What next? He stopped at a nearby coffee shop, ordered a cup of coffee, and tried to think. Not in his personal quarters at home, the man’s safe-deposit boxes, his workplace, or the garage. So where else could he look? He didn’t remember ever being despondent, not even when his wife had let him down, but he was bordering on it. If something didn’t go right soon, he’d start banging his head against a wall.
He took out his cell phone and called Shirley. “Hi. This is Carson. Where are you, and when are you getting back in the States?” He knew he’d surprised her. “Friday morning? What’s your address?” She told him. “Do you mind if I visit you Friday afternoon?”
She said she didn’t mind at all. So he hung up and called his travel agent. He didn’t fool himself with the idea that he wanted to see Shirley for information about the will. He’d called her because he needed her, and he was not in the habit of lying to himself. A feeling of contentment pervaded him. For the coming weekend, at least, he wouldn’t have that sense of aloneness, feeling as if he were a dry leaf at the mercy of the wind, as if nobody cared. It was his fault, he knew, because he didn’t take the time to cement friendships. Work and his ambitions for his agency came first. But he paid for it. Oh, how he paid!
In the Fort Lauderdale–Hollywood International Airport, he strode past the luggage carousel without looking in its direction and headed for the taxi stand. “Carson!” He heard it a second time, realized that someone could be calling him, and stopped. A soft hand on his arm got his attention, and he whirled around.
“Wh—Shirley!” he said, certain that he gaped at her. “It didn’t occur to me that you’d meet me. What a nice welcome!”
She slipped her hand into his and matched his stride. “We’re going to the garage. It’s this way. Did you have a comfortable flight?”
“I guess so. I slept most of the way. I awoke when the plane touched the ground.”
“Then you didn’t eat lunch?”
“No, but if you miss an airline meal, you aren’t out of anything.”
He didn’t think he’d ever been a passenger in a car driven by a woman, unless the driver was a cabbie, and it interested him that she sat in the vehicle with the kind of authority that he admired. “I think you like to drive,” he said as she sped along South Federal Avenue.
“I like the freedom I feel when I drive in light traffic. That’s when I have to be careful not to speed. How long will you stay?” She switched from impersonal to personal so quickly that he was momentarily speechless.
“I’d like to stay until Sunday afternoon, unless you have other plans. I reserved a room at The Ritz-Carlton for two nights. I don’t think it’s too far from you. Am I right?”
“It isn’t too far.” She parked in front of what looked like an upscale town house. “Here we are.”
“How nice!” He saw the F
OR
S
ALE
sign. “Are you buying or selling?”
“Selling. If I don’t get back to Ellicott City soon, Edgar and Gunther will kill each other.”
“Are you serious?”
She nodded as she fished in her handbag for the door keys. “Edgar has always been jealous of Gunther, though I don’t know why, and now he’s angry because Gunther won’t lend him any more money. If we loaned—actually,
gave
is a better word—Edgar money every time he asked for it, Gunther and I would be broke.”
“I don’t suppose you know what he does with it. He doesn’t appear to be on drugs.”
“I don’t think so, either. I think he gambles. He’s always wanted something for nothing, into all kinds of deals.”
“He may have gambling debts, and that can be dangerous.”
“Yes, I know.”
They entered the house, and he liked it. “This place is lovely. It expresses you perfectly, from the high ceilings and huge picture windows to the tasteful furniture and lovely warm colors.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she said. “I hate to leave it. Why don’t I give you something to eat. Then we’ll check you into your hotel and go for a swim. Would you like that, or do you have other plans?”
She looked at him so hopefully, seemingly open to his own ideas, and he realized that she wanted to please him, but she wasn’t sure of him or of his motive for visiting her.
“I’ll take the food. Mind if I remove this jacket? It’s linen, but even skin is hot down here.”
Her laughter removed the tension. “Of course you can take it off. Want to come with me to the kitchen, or would you rather look around?”
He followed her to the kitchen and admired the granite countertops, stainless-steel refrigerator, stove, dishwasher, freezer, and sink, and the walls of yellow brick. “You’ve got great taste, Shirley. Say, don’t move that to the dining room. Why can’t I eat right here?”
She gave him a crabmeat salad, deviled eggs, sliced tomatoes, homemade cheese biscuits, and lemonade. “Aren’t you joining me?”
“Maybe I’ll eat a biscuit. I love biscuits.” She sat at the table across from him.
“I can see why. These biscuits are fabulous. Who made them?”
“Who made what? You mean the biscuits? I did, of course. I wouldn’t think of buying a biscuit. Carson, I’m dying to know why you decided to visit me.”
He stopped eating, drank some lemonade, and looked hard at her. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes. I have to know, Carson.”
“I hit a low point, and I thought hard about myself. It wasn’t like me to feel that kind of aloneness. I realized that I needed you and that no one and nothing would lift my spirits except being with you.”
“You’re serious.”
“Yes, I am. I’m not surprised, either, because I’ve had these deep feelings for you all along, and I knew it. I just hadn’t thought I needed to do anything about them. I didn’t count on just plain needing you. I hadn’t felt anything like that in years.”
“You ... uh ... you really surprise me. I thought you liked me but that you were probably committed to someone else. Are you?”
“No. I’ve been divorced for five years, and you’re the only woman who’s gotten through the shell I erected when I knew my marriage was over.”
“You took me out to a wonderful dinner and then danced with me. You dressed to the nines, brought me flowers, had some more on our dinner table for me, and told me good night at the door without even kissing me on the cheek. I wanted a kiss.”
She’d thought he’d smile at that, but he looked at her solemnly and said, “I wanted it worse than you could have, but I’d spent the evening thinking things you don’t want me to repeat. You really had me besotted. Do you know how you look in that dress? I’ve never done myself a disservice with a woman, but if I’d gotten you in my arms alone in that dimly lit foyer of Gunther’s, I might have. And I knew it.”
“Thanks for explaining it. I would have invited you to stay here, but I didn’t think our relationship warranted that.”
“And you’re right. However, while I’m down here, I hope to make progress in that direction.” He resumed eating. “This is good stuff.”
Chapter Five
Did that mean he was going to take their relationship seriously and try to build it into something meaningful? She knew he wouldn’t lie about something that important. Deciding not to comment on it, she said, “Your hotel is right on the beach. I hope you get a room facing the ocean.”
She noticed that he either ate or talked and didn’t attempt them simultaneously. So she waited for his response. He cleaned his plate, leaned back, and looked at her. “That was wonderful. If you like to swim, I’d be delighted to do that. I don’t know when I was last in an ocean.”
“Oh, I forgot I made a raspberry strudel. Would you like some? I can warm it in a few seconds.”
“I’d love it.”
She warmed it and placed a big serving of it in front of him. He tasted it and stared at her. “If you tell me you made this, I may never leave here.”
Feigning modesty, she said, “I don’t know what to say, then.”
“Tell you what,” he said when he’d finished the dessert, “get your bathing suit and come with me while I check in at the hotel. We’ll change, swim, dress, see some of the town, and I’ll bring you home. I’ll make some plans for tomorrow. What do you say?”
“I’d like that. How will you dress after we swim?”
“How will I ... ? I get it. Jacket and open-collared shirt.”
She packed a shower cap, a bikini, and makeup in a small handbag and dressed in a pink on pink flowery voile dress. Claiming that he didn’t want her to chauffeur him around, he called for a taxi, and she went with him to The Ritz-Carlton. He waited while she changed into her swimsuit and slipped into one of the white terry-cloth robes that hung in his closet.
“Cheat,” he said when she came out of the bathroom with the robe wrapped tightly. “Well, at least you can’t swim in it.”
She sat down, crossed her legs, and waited for him to change.
If he looks like I think he’s going to look,
she thought, remembering how he’d slithered on his hips beneath her father’s desk,
I’ll be in real trouble.
He emerged from the bathroom wearing a swimsuit one-quarter the size of a pair of Calvin Klein jockey shorts. She thought she’d prepared herself for it, but she hadn’t, because she was sure her lower jaw dropped.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with a straight face.
“Nothing,” she said, went to the closet, got the other white terry-cloth robe, and threw it at him. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He hooted for a full two minutes, but he put on the robe, sat down, slipped on a pair of flip-flops, took her hand, and walked over to the window. “What a view. The Atlantic rolling and tumbling for as far as the eye can see. Imagine seeing the sunset from this balcony.”
She thought he’d put his arm around her, but he didn’t. “The tide seems to be coming in,” she said, mostly to calm her nerves.
“Yeah. Let’s get that dip.”
Since moving to Fort Lauderdale, she’d become a good swimmer, and she’d discovered that she loved the water. What fun it would be to swim with Carson. They dropped their robes on the two lounge chairs that he rented. She looked up, caught him staring at her, and would have run, but immediately her embarrassment dissolved into pure lust. She swallowed heavily, unable to shift her gaze from his body. Her fingers itched to roam from his broad shoulders to his washboard middle and his tapered waist to his muscular thighs and perfectly shaped legs.
“You ... you’re downright sinful,” she said, then whirled around and raced to the water.
He caught her before she reached the edge of the ocean. “And I’d like to experience every centimeter of
you,
” he said, letting her know he was aware that she ogled him. “You’re all any man could want.”
She ran out and dove into the water. Seconds later, he grabbed her, picked her up, and waded to shore. “What? What are you doing, Carson?”
“That water is full of jellyfish, and they have a horrible sting. That’s why the swimmers are farther down the beach. Let’s go down there.”
Shock at the feel of his hands on her bare flesh reverberated throughout her body.
I’d better get a grip on this madness,
she said to herself.
They collected their robes and walked half a mile along the beach. “Don’t you post signs about those jellyfish?” he asked a guard.
“We posted them in the hotel. Sorry if you didn’t see the sign. It’s safe to swim here.”
After swimming for half an hour, Carson guided her to shore. “It’s getting cooler. Perhaps we ought to go back to the hotel.” He held her robe for her but didn’t try to touch her body.
If he thinks he’s teaching me to trust him, I wish he’d stop. I already trust him.
They dressed in his room, but she decided to take a sponge bath, for she saw no point in testing him by taking a shower. He showered and came out of the bathroom fully dressed. “Let’s sit on the balcony for a few minutes,” he said. “I want to watch the sunset with you. Would you like a glass of wine, a soft drink, anything?”
So he wasn’t interested in plying her with alcohol. “A glass of white wine would be nice.” She reached down, tightened the strap on her white three-inch-heeled sandals, then stood and accepted his outstretched hand. Sitting on the balcony, holding her hand, he pressed the button for room service and ordered wine and hors d’oeuvres.
She couldn’t help thinking that Carson showed his sophistication in so many ways that she’d be hard put to keep abreast of him socially. Within minutes, a kaleidoscope of colors decorated the sky, and in the midst of it, the sun inched toward its nightly resting place.
She squeezed his fingers. “This is so beautiful,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
When he didn’t respond, she wondered if he thought her melodramatic. “Wasn’t it wonderful?” she asked him after the sun dropped out of sight.
“I’ve watched many sunsets, Shirley, but I think this one was different because I watched it with you. It was wonderful.”
A waiter brought wine and the snacks. “I forgot that swimming makes me hungry,” she said, sipping the wine and eating a shrimp.
“It makes me hungry and sleepy, too,” he said. “When we finish this, I suggest we leave. I made dinner reservations for a quarter of eight.”
After dinner, he signaled for a taxi, and as the cabbie drove along South Federal Highway, singing the praises of Fort Lauderdale, she didn’t listen to him but focused her thoughts on the man beside her. It amazed her that she had no anxiety about what would happen between them when she got home.
At her door, Carson held out his hand for her key; then he opened the door and stepped back until she asked if he’d like to come in. “For a few minutes. Yes.” He stopped in the foyer, and she flipped on the light, thinking that he didn’t want to walk into a dark place. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in a way that pushed back his jacket. He tilted his head a little and looked her in the eye.
“From the minute you called my name in the airport until now has been the happiest time I’ve spent in many years. I feel something for you, and it’s no simple thing. It transcends what happens when I look at you in a bathing suit, a dress, or a pair of jeans. It’s in here.” He pointed to his heart. “Tell me right now whether I’m spitting against the wind. Can you care for me?”
Why didn’t he just dump a load of cement on her head? She couldn’t even accuse him of attempting to bamboozle her, because he’d put a distance of at least four feet between them. “How do I know?” she said, peeved. “You haven’t even bothered to kiss me.”
“Why does that matter? You don’t need proof of the chemistry between us, but if you want a sample, come closer.” As if he knew she was about to accuse him of being a chauvinist, he grinned. “Since we’re alone in your house, I don’t want to crowd you.”
He looks vulnerable,
she thought, and pushed back the clever words that came to the tip of her tongue. “You won’t crowd me,” she said, and opened her arms to him. Maybe she moved. Maybe she didn’t. But she was in his arms at last. He stared down at her, and then his lips touched her, and she would willingly have been consumed by the fire in him as she parted her lips and took him into her mouth. She felt his tremors and wondered if he could feel the thumping of her heart and sense the storm that raged inside of her.
He released her and stepped back. “Are you involved with any other man?”
“No. There isn’t anyone. What about you?”
“Definitely not, and let me tell you this. My work takes me away from home frequently. If you’re the type who can’t be alone, I won’t take this one minute further.”
“Is that what happened in your marriage?”
“Yes. It hurt, and I swore never to care for another woman, but as you know, man proposes and God disposes.”
“Are you going to make me pay for what she did?”
“I’m not stupid. Besides, you two have nothing in common. Will you agree not to see other men and to let us find out what we can be to each other?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” she said. “You said you didn’t have any children.”
“That’s right. My wife didn’t want any, and it proved to be just as well; children need both parents all the time.”
“Yes, indeed. I wonder what my life would have been like if my mother had lived. Oh, well, I won’t get maudlin.”
He stepped closer and took her into his arms again. “From now on, you have me. No matter what happens or where it happens, I’ll be there for you. Do you understand that?”
She hugged him as tightly as she could. “Yes, and I’ll be there for you, too.” He kissed her quickly and left her.
 
She’d given him more than he’d dared to hope for, and he meant to treat the precious gift with care. Sitting with her on the balcony of his hotel room watching that awesome sunset, he had realized that he didn’t want to be without her, that he needed her as he needed fresh air and clean water. But he was no stranger to pain. If it didn’t work out, he’d shake the sand from his feet and move on.
He walked four blocks until he reached a convenience store that blazed with neon lighting. He walked in and asked the teenaged clerk to phone for a taxi. After tipping the boy, he was soon on his way to the hotel, where he obtained information about what to do and see in Fort Lauderdale; then he went to his room and made plans for the next day. Sitting on the balcony gazing out at the still, dark night, he asked himself why he’d abandoned his policy of not getting involved with a client. On the flight to Fort Lauderdale, he’d told himself that she wasn’t a client, but that was only partially true. He could be headed for trouble.
“But I need her,” he said aloud, “and I’m human.”
 
While Shirley waited for Carson the next morning, she telephoned Gunther. “Hi, how are you, and are things with Frieda still going well?”
“I can finally see some improvement in my energy and strength. I asked my doctor if I could let Frieda go, and he said no, so I didn’t tell him that I work at night while she’s asleep. She lets me work two hours a day, and I’ve designed a new game since I’ve been recovering.”
“Why do you need her?”
“She gives me exercises and massages, monitors my fluid intake, and has me on a regimen of vitamins and minerals. It’s too much for Mirna, though I know she’d try if need be. My doctor said it’s either hospitalization, a sanitarium, or a private nurse. The trouble is that Edgar got on Frieda’s nerves, and she’s got a fast, sharp tongue, so she told him off. Now I noticed that he’s snooping around her. I don’t like it.”
And he had reason not to like it, for Edgar had repeated to Frieda his claim that Gunther was enchanted with her.
“Don’t worry too much. Edgar can’t resist showing his hand, and he’ll do it sooner rather than later.”
“I certainly hope you’re right. He said he’d been trying for two days to reach Carson but can’t get through to him.”
“I guess not. Carson is here in Fort Lauderdale.”
“He what? What the hell is he doing down there?”
“He called me and asked me if he could visit me, and I said yes.”
“Is something serious going on between you and that guy?”
She was standing now, and her breath had begun to come in short pants. “I hope so. All of my adult life, I’ve been waiting to meet an intelligent, accomplished, courteous gentleman who respects me and himself. Carson fills the bill perfectly.”
“Well! I think you just told me to stay out of it. Where is he now?”
“At The Ritz-Carlton. He should be here any minute.”
“At his age, he should be married,” Gunther said, and she knew he was both fishing for information and warning her.
“So should you,” she told him. “The doorbell just rang. Gotta go.”
She opened the door and gazed at Carson. Getting used to his stunning looks would take some doing. He seemed unaware of them, and that was a good thing. If he’d been narcissistic, she wouldn’t have given him a second glance.
He leaned down, brushed her lips with his, and then ran his finger down the bridge of her nose. “I feel good. What about you? How’s my girl?”

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