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The way he loves you.

212

EILEEN GOUDGE

Annie felt a sharp pain in her chest, like a muscle cramping. Did Joe look at her that way, as just a good friend, a sister, sort of?

She remembered the day, the exact moment, when she first realized she was in love with Joe. Four months ago, walking home with Steve Hogan after a movie, this madman on a bicycle had careened out of nowhere, knocking her down as she stepped off a curb ahead of Steve. Thrown to the pavement, she banged her head and bruised her knees. But the worst of it wasn’t her pain, or the idiot on the bike not even bothering to stop. No, it was that she couldn’t stop laughing.

Joe would’ve held her tight, she’d thought, kept her warm, gotten help. Like with Laurel, when she’d cut her knee. He would’ve known she was in shock, semihysterical. But Steve, cute, top of his class, NYU Law School, whom she’d been seeing for almost a year and had even thought about marrying, had just hunkered down on the pavement beside her, patting her back as if he was halfheartedly trying to burp a baby. She’d known then—as if the bike hitting her had somehow knocked the realization loose-that the only man she wanted, right then, and always, was Joe.

But she hadn’t had the guts to tell him, not yet. There was still time. Maybe in a few days, after Easter vacation, when Laurel went back to school …

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” Dolly’s robust contralto broke into her thoughts. And now Joe was joining in. And Rivka, too, in a wavery soprano, her round face shining in the glow of the flickering candles foresting the cake she was carrying in from the kitchen. “Happy birthday, dear Lau-rel. Happy birthday to yoooouuuu!”

Annie watched Laurel take a deep breath, and with her eyes fixed on Joe, blow out the candles on the cake.

I don’t need a crystal ball to know what she’s wishing. Annie felt guilty for wishing the same thing for herself, but dammit, why should Laurel have any more of a right to Joe than she did? And, anyway, Laurel would get over him. At Syracuse, there had to be dozens of guys her own

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age chasing after her; in no time at all, she’d be mooning over one of them, and Joe would go back to being no more than a big brother.

While Rivka was cutting the rich coconut cake and Laurel was passing out slices, Annie went over and sat down next to Joe. “How did it go last night?” she asked. •“You know, with your party?”

Joe’s Place had just branched into catering, and she knew they hadn’t yet ironed out all the kinks. The restaurant, though, was almost running itself now, and was fully booked almost every night. In the past six years, it had become a Village institution.

“Not bad,” he told her. “Except the lady’s oven fritzed out, and Rafy had to sweet-talk the next-door neighbor into letting us use hers. Other than having this ditzy neighbor crash my client’s black-tie party in her sweatpants and running shoes like she and her oven were some kind of package deal, it went okay.”

Annie smiled, and rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I know.”

“You too?”

“Yesterday, I’m offering a sample to this buyer who warns me he’s allergic to nuts. I tell him not to worry, I know for an absolute fact that this Framboise truffle has no nuts. Then he takes one bite, and turns absolutely white, and has to rush for the toilet.”

“Oops.” Joe winced. “Guess you had it wrong.”

“Nope. I was right about the Framboise, but I’d given him the wrong truffle. I gave him a rhum praline by mistake.”

Annie remembered how embarrassed and apologetic she’d been at the time, but now, with Joe, she could laugh. Telling him about things that had upset her at work always made them seam better.

“You still so dead set on opening your own shop?” His eyes, behind the round, steelrimmed glasses that had replaced his old, square ones, were mildly challenging.

“I’d like to … if I ever get it together. You know, little details like knowing how to make chocolates, and having enough money.” She shrugged, keeping her voice

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light, not wanting him, or anyone, to know how desperately she wanted this. What if Henri-even after her triumph with Donate (who just this afternoon had called to set up a meeting with her)—didn’t come through with the apprenticeship? And even if she did get it, what if the money she’d been counting on from Dearie’s trust—the money she’d have to have to start her own business—had somehow vanished, stolen by Val, whose silence all these years worried her almost as much as his lechery once had?

“I’m not worried about you,” Joe said. “Anything you really want, you’ll find a way of getting it.”

Looking into Joe’s eyes, those green-brown eyes flashing with quiet amusement, she felt a good, steady warmth spreading through her. She longed to wrap her arms around him, to bury her head in his raglan sweater and listen for his heartbeat, see if it was racing the way hers was right now. Oh, Joe, if you knew what I was wishing for now, would you still be so sure I’d get it?

She had to tell him how she felt, and stop all this babyish mooning. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, at least then she’d know. And she’d deal with it somehow.

I will tell him, she thought, the day after tomorrow, when Laurel is gone, when I have him all to myself again.

And if he does want me … well, Laurel will just have to understand. She’s a big girl; she’ll get over it. Haven’t I always given her everything? Just this once, don’t I deserve to come first?

“What are you guys whispering about?” Annie looked up and saw Laurel standing over them, a plate of cake in each hand. She was smiling, but her eyes, Annie observed, had narrowed the tiniest bit.

“You, of course,” Joe teased. “I was wondering—now that you’re eighteen and all—if you’re finally going to introduce us to your mystery boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” She glared at him as she handed them their plates.

“The one you’re always sneaking off to be with.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Laurel was trying to laugh, but the color in her cheeks was giving her away.

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It was nothing new, this secretiveness of hers, but Annie wondered now, as she had a hundred times before, What is she hiding? All those evenings, getting home from work to find Laurel not home, and not at Rivka’s, either. Laurel would always say that she’d been doing homework at a friend’s house, or had stayed late at the library, but she’d cut her eyes away when she said it, and her cheeks would color.

Dolly, when Annie told her about it, had said maybe it was Laurel’s way of showing her independence. Probably she was at a friend’s house, Dolly reasoned, but she wanted to let Annie know she was too grown up to have to check in like a little kid.

And years ago, Joe had begun teasing Laurel about her “mystery boyfriend. ” Laurel always pretended not to know what he was talking about, but Annie thought she was probably secretly pleased that Joe cared enough to be intrigued.

“Then how come you’re blushing?” Joe ribbed her now, his eyes twinkling.

“I’m not!” Laurel’s hands flew to her reddening cheeks. But now her smile looked strained, and she cast an odd, furtive glance at Annie.

What is she hiding?

Joe, probably sensing he’d gone too far, was now trying to smooth things over. “Okay, okay. Forget I said anything.” He wiggled his eyebrows, adding in a low, mock-seductive voice, “Maybe I’m just jealous. Maybe I want you all for myself.”

Annie felt herself grow hot, burning hot—then, all at once, very cold. But why was she getting so upset? Joe was just kidding around, same as he’d been doing with Laurel forever ฮ. . Why should now be any different?

You know even if Joe refuses to see it.

Enough. She had to tell him how she felt, before Laurel ended up getting hurt.

Tonight. As soon as Laurel went upstairs. She wouldn’t even wait until her sister had gone back to school.

Now she looked over at Dolly, who was standing up, reaching for her purse. “I’d like to make a little announcement,”

she said, looking straight at Annie, smiling, her face pink with anticipation, like a kid about to blurt some wonderful secret. “I know this is Laurey’s big day, but honey, I have something for you too.” Reaching into her large lizard-skin purse, she pulled out an envelope and handed it to Annie. “Go on,” she urged, “open it.”

Inside the envelope, Annie saw, was an airline ticket-to Paris.

She stared at it, numb with shock.

“I talked to Henri,” Dolly gushed. “It’s all arranged. You’ll be working under Monsieur Pompeau. He’s an old goat, let me warn you, but what he knows about chocolate would fill a dozen volumes.”

Now Annie was seeing the date on the ticket-a week from today!

“It’s … so soon,” she managed to get past her frozen lips.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you more notice, but the other apprentice you’ll be working with starts next week, and Pompeau wants you both at the same time.”

Now the numbness was beginning to fade, and feeling crept back in. She felt a burst of sudden joy-Paris! She was finally going to be a real chocolatier, not just an assistant manager in a shop.

Then her joy wilted. Three and a half months without Joe. It’d seem like forever.

Now it didn’t matter if she told him how she felt. Either way, they’d be apart. And Laurel… well, Syracuse was a lot closer than Paris. She’d see Joe on long weekends and on holidays… . And maybe with Annie out of the way, he and Laurel would-

“Well, say something, for heaven’s sake!” Dolly threw up her arms. “If I have to lose the best manager I’ve ever had, the least you can do is be happy about it.”

“I … I … don’t know what to say … It’s just so …” Annie stood up and hugged her aunt. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

And Annie did feel grateful, but at the same time

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she couldn’t help thinking that Dolly had picked absolutely the worst moment to play fairy godmother.

Annnie, getting her boarding pass at the Air France checkin desk, heard her flight being announced. She turned to Joe. “I’d better go.” She bent down to grab her carry-on bag, but Joe got to it first, hefting it easily.

“I’ll walk you to the gate,” he said.

“You don’t have to.”

She felt so awkward, standing here with Joe in the middle of the international-departures corridor, people rushing by in both directions, the two of them acting more like strangers on a blind date than best friends. She felt a sudden urge to grab him, rignt here in front of everyone.? and shout, I love you, dammit! Why can’t you see that?

But, of course, she wouldn’t. Instead, she just trudged alongside Joe, sneaking sidelong glances at him every so often. He was more dressed up than usual, wearing pressed flannel slacks and a button-down shirt under his scuffed leather bomber jacket. His hair was neat, as if he’d just combed it; under the overhead fluorescents she could see the damp tracks left by his comb. His glasses, though, were slightly askew, one wire earpiece not quite resting on his ear.

Her heart felt hollow, a husk that had been dried out by the heat of her longing. Why didn’t he say something, anything, to let her know how he felt, if he was going to miss her?

He didn’t speak until they reached her gate. Putting her suitcase down on one of the plastic chairs bolted to the floor in long rows, Joe reached up to touch her cheek, his fingers cool and light. “I’m not going to promise to write, because I’d only end up disappointing you. I’m lousy with letters.”

“Well, I’ll probably be too busy to write back, anyway.” She looked down, so he wouldn’t see the disappointment she was feeling.

“Annie.” He hooked a finger under her chin, and

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tilted her head back so she was looking at him. She felt herself growing Warm, her skin prickling under her cowlnecked sweater and the new tweed skirt Laurel had made for her. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss you.”

“Are you?” God, what a dumb thing to say.

“Who else is going to wake me up Sunday mornings by banging on the door, and yelling, ‘Extra! Extra! Read all about it’?”

“If I didn’t get you your Times, Mr. Abdullah would be all out by the time you rolled out of bed.”

“I think you just like seeing me stagger to the door in my skivvies.”

She laughed, feeling herself relax a bit as they slipped into their old, familiar banter. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve seen better-looking bodies on Wheaties boxes.”

“Annie, I am going to miss you.” His crooked smile was fading now, his eyes serious.

“Joe, I …” She felt a high, throbbing ache in her throat, as if a thumb was pressing into her Adam’s apple.

Over the PA, the final boarding call was being announced. The lounge, she saw, was nearly empty now.

“… I’d better go,” she finished weakly.

She was about to turn when he caught her in his arms, and pulled her close-so close she could almost taste him, a sharp sensation at the back of her throat, like biting into a green apple, tart and sweet at the same time, flooding her mouth with saliva and filling her eyes with tears.

He kissed her. Full on the mouth, a deep kiss that pierced her heart. His lips were soft, and she could feel the tip of his tongue, and just the edge of his teeth. She breathed in the good, rich smell of him-a smell that reminded her of cuddling up inside one of those baggy sweaters of his she was always borrowing. His arms tensed, drawing her even closer, his lean frame pressing hard against her.

Oh God, dear God, was this really happening?

A happy, stunned heat flooded through her, making her feel heavy, and the tips of her fingers prickled. Lightheaded, too. A word popped into her head: swoon. Like a heroine in a Victorian novel, she was swooning.

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Annie, pulling back and looking into Joe’s eyes, those green-brown eyes so quiet and still behind the lenses of his steelrimmed glasses, sensed that Joe, under that calm surface, felt as shaken as she did.