A Perfect Stranger (11 page)

She was a woman of honor, and he was touched to the core by the earnestness with which she looked at him now, the tears dancing on the tips of her lashes, her eyes so very big, her face so very pale.

He spoke to her carefully and with great seriousness, as he did to Amanda when she was a very little girl. Raphaella, I respect you very much for what you have just done. But must that affect our our friendship? I can accept your situation. Couldn't we go on seeing each other in spite of that? It was an honest question, and he wasn't about to let go.

She shook her head sadly. I would like to see you' if if I were free. But I am a married woman. It's not possible. It wouldn't be right.

Why?

It would not be fair to my husband. And he is such she faltered on the words such a good man. He has been' so fair' so kind to me' . She turned her face away and Alex saw a tear roll swiftly down one delicate, ivory cheek. He reached out a hand to smooth his fingertips across the satiny softness of her face, and suddenly he wanted to cry too. She couldn't mean it. She couldn't mean to be faithful to her husband for the rest of his life. The horror of that began to dawn on him as he watched her face.

But, Raphaella' you can't be' the night I saw you on the steps' you're not happy. I know that. Why can't we see each other and just enjoy what we have?

Because I have no right to that. I'm not free.

For God's sake He was about to tell her that he knew everything, but she stopped him with one hand held out as though to defend herself from an aggressor, and with one swift movement she stood up and looked down at him with the tears still running down her face.

No, Alex, no! I can't. I'm married. And I'm very, very sorry for letting it go this far. I shouldn't have. I was dishonest to come to lunch with your mother' .

Stop confessing and sit down. He reached out gently for her arm and pulled her toward him back onto the seat, and for reasons that she herself did not understand, she let him, and then he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his hand. Raphaella. He spoke very softly so that no one else could hear. I love you. I know that sounds crazy. We hardly know each other, but I love you. I've been looking for you for years and years. You can't walk out on that now. Not for what you have with with your husband.

What do you mean?

I mean that from what I understand from my mother, your husband is very old, and very ill, and has been for years. I have to admit, I had no idea who you were when I met you, it was my mother who recognized you, she told me who you were and about about your husband.

Then she knew. She must think I'm awful. Raphaella looked deeply ashamed.

No. He was definite and his voice sounded urgent as he leaned toward her. He could almost feel the warmth of her silky flesh next to his and he had never been as filled with desire as he was right then, but this was no time for passion. He had to talk to her, make sense to her, make her see. How could anyone think you awful? You've been faithful to him, haven't you, all these years? It was almost a rhetorical question and she nodded her head slowly and then sighed.

I have. But there is no reason to stop now. I have no right to behave as though I'm free, Alex. I'm not. And I have no right to confuse your life or touch it with the sorrow of mine.

The reason your life is so lonely is because that is how you are living it. Lonely and alone with a very sick, elderly man. You have a right to so much more than that.

Yes. But it's not his fault things turned out as they did.

Nor is it yours. Must you punish yourself?

No, but I cannot punish him. The way she said it told him that he was losing the battle again, and he felt a desperate sinking in his heart. And as he did she stood up again, but this time with great determination. I must go now. His eyes begged her not to. I must. And then, without saying anything further, she let her lips gently brush his brow as she kissed him softly and walked quickly from the bar. He made a single move to follow her, and she shook her head and held up a hand. He knew that once again she was crying, but he also knew that this time he had lost. To pursue her would only make her more unhappy and he knew that there was nothing that he could do. He had sensed that as she was speaking. She was bound to John Henry Phillips in marriage and in honor, and it was not a bond that Raphaella was prepared to break, nor would she even stretch it, and certainly not for a perfect stranger, a man she had met the day before on a plane.

Alex Hale paid for his drink at the bar at the Carlyle, forgot about the table he had reserved across the hall to see Bobby Short, and walked out onto Madison Avenue, his arm up for a cab to take him back to his hotel. And when he slid onto the seat, the cabbie glanced in his rearview mirror, chomped hard on his cigar, and looked surprised. Must be cold out there, huh, buddy? It was the only obvious explanation he could find for the tears spilling from Alex's eyes and rolling swiftly down his cheeks.

Alex and his niece stood side by side for a long moment, watching the skaters circle gracefully below them in Rockefeller Center. They had just finished an early dinner at the Caf+! Fran+oais and he had to get her home by eight o'clock if he was going to catch his plane.

I wish I could spend my life like that, Uncle Alex. The small delicate blond girl with the China-blue eyes and soft halo of curls looked up at her uncle with a smile.

What? Skating? He smiled, as much at what she had said as at the tiny figure she was beside him. They had shared a pleasant evening, and as always the loneliness of the pretty teen-ager tore at his heart. She was like no one else in her family. Not her mother or father, not even her grandmother, or Alex himself. She was quiet and devoted, gentle and lonely and loyal. She reminded him in fact of Raphaella as they stood in the chill air. Perhaps they were both people who had suffered at the hands of life, and he wondered if they were almost equally lonely as he looked down at the young girl. He had also been wondering all evening what was on her mind. She had seemed quiet and troubled and now she watched the skaters with a look of longing, like a very hungry child. He wished suddenly that he weren't taking the night flight to San Francisco, and that he had more time to spend with her, maybe they could even have rented skates. But he already had his reservation and had given up his room at the hotel. Next time I'm in town, we'll come do this.

She grinned up at him. I'm real good now, you know.

Oh, yeah? His look was teasing. How come?

I go skating all the time.

Here? He glanced down at the graceful girl with pleasure. And he was sorry again that he didn't have time to let her show him how real good she was.

But she was shaking her head in answer. Not here. I can't afford this on my allowance. That in itself seemed to him absurd. Her father was one of the leading surgeons in Manhattan, and Kay certainly had a decent sum of her own money by now. I skate in the park, Uncle Alex. It was only now and then that she still called him that.

By yourself? He looked horrified and she smiled at him with hauteur.

Sometimes. I'm a big girl now, you know.

Big enough not to get mugged? He looked angry as they stood there and she shook her head and laughed.

You sound just like Grandma.

Does she know you go skating in Central Park alone? Come to think of it, does your mother? In the end Kay had gone back to Washington before he got there and he hadn't seen her this trip at all.

They both know. And I'm careful. If I skate at night, I leave the park with other people, so I don't have to walk alone.

And how do you know those other people' won't hurt you?

Why should they?

Oh, for chris-sake, Mandy, you know what it's like here. You've lived in New York all your life. Do I have to explain to you what one doesn't do here?

It's not the same for a kid. Why would someone mug me? What would they get? Two rolls of Life Savers, three bucks, and my keys?

Maybe. Or he hated even to say it or maybe something much more precious. They could hurt you. He didn't want to say rape. Not to the innocent little face looking up at him with the funny smile. Look, just do me a favor. Don't do it. And then, with a frown between his eyes, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, whence he took out a single brand-new hundred-dollar bill. He handed it to Amanda with a serious expression, and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

What are you doing?

That is your skating fund. I want you to come here from now on. And when you run out, I want you to tell me and I'll send you some more. That's just between you and me, young lady, but I don't want you skating in Central Park anymore. Is that clear?

Yes, sir. But, Alex, you're crazy! A hundred dollars! And then she grinned broadly and looked again about ten years old. Wow! And without further ado she stood on tiptoe, threw her arms around her uncle, kissed him soundly on the cheek, and stuffed the hundred-dollar bill into her little denim bag. The fact that she had taken it made him feel better, but what he didn't know and would have worried him severely was that as often as she skated, the money would only last for a few weeks. And she would have been embarrassed to ask him to send her more money. She just wasn't that kind of girl. She wasn't demanding. And she was always grateful for whatever she got without asking for more.

Reluctantly he looked at his watch and then down at Amanda. His regret was instantly mirrored in her face. I'm afraid, young lady, that we're going to have to leave. She nodded and said nothing, wondering how soon she would see him again. His visits were always like a burst of sunshine for her. That and the time that she spent with her grandmother made her life a little more bearable and a lot more worthwhile. They walked slowly up the sloping promenade toward Fifth Avenue, and when they reached the street, he hailed a cab.

Do you know how soon you'll be back, Alex?

I don't know. It won't be too long. He always had the same feeling of pain and remorse when he left her. As though he should have done more for her, and reproached himself that he had not. But how much could one do? How could one replace one blind parent and another who was unfeeling? How could one give a child what she had not had for almost seventeen years? And despite her diminutive size, she was no longer a child, even Alex could no longer ignore that. She was a singularly beautiful young girl. It was only amazing that she had not yet discovered that herself.

Will you be back for Thanksgiving?

Maybe. He saw the imploring look in her eyes. All right. I'll try. But I won't promise. They had by then reached her building, and Alex left her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and a long hard squeeze. He could see that there were tears sparkling in her eyes as she left him, but her wave as he drove away in the taxi was a gallant one, and her smile was filled with all the promise of her sixteen and a half years. It always made him sad to leave her. Somehow she always reminded him of the opportunities he had missed, the children that he himself didn't have. He would have loved it if Amanda had been his daughter. And that thought in itself always made him angry. His sister didn't deserve a child as lovely as that.

He gave the driver the address of his hotel, where he picked up his luggage from the doorman, and then settled back in the seat with another glance at his watch and a long tired sigh. Kennedy Airport, please. United. He realized then that it would be good to get home. He had only been in New York for two days but they had drained him. The exchange with Raphaella the night before had left him feeling bleak and lonely. His business had gone well, but it seemed eclipsed by the emotional turmoil he felt as they drove slowly uptown. He found himself thinking less and less of Amanda and more and more of Raphaella as he sat there. He was sorry for her, and yet at the same time angry. Why did she insist on being faithful to a husband who was old enough to be her grandfather and already half dead? It didn't make any sense. It was crazy' . He remembered the look on her face as she had walked away from him the night before. Yesterday. He had seen her only yesterday. And then suddenly, with an inexplicable surge of rage, he asked himself why he had to be understanding, why he had to accept what she said. Go away was in effect what she had told him. But he had decided not to. All of a sudden. Just like that. Driver. Alex looked around him as though he had suddenly woken up. They were on 99th Street on the East River Drive. Take me to the Carlyle.

Now?

Alex nodded emphatically. Now.

Not the airport? No. To hell with it. He could always stay at his mother's apartment if he missed the plane back to San Francisco. She had gone to Boston for the weekend to do some promotional appearances for her new book. It was worth one more try, just to see her. If she was there. If she would come downstairs to see him. If' .

In her room at the Carlyle, Raphaella was stretched out on the large double bed in a pink satin bathrobe, wearing cream-colored lace underwear underneath. For the first time in what seemed like centuries, she was alone. She had just said good-bye to her mother and her aunt and her cousins, who were by now at the airport, boarding the plane for Buenos Aires. She was going back to San Francisco in the morning, but for tonight she could relax at the Carlyle and do absolutely nothing. She didn't have to be charming, pleasant, patient. She didn't have to translate for her family in a dozen elegant stores. She didn't have to order meals for them or run around the city shopping. She could just lie there with a book and relax, and in a few moments room service would bring her dinner to her room. She would eat it in solitary splendor in the living room of the suite she always stayed in, and she looked around as she lay there, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and delight. It was so good not to hear them chattering, not to have to feign amusement or pretend to be happy every moment anymore. She hadn't had a minute to herself since she'd got there. Not that she ever did. That was the whole point. She wasn't supposed to be alone. Never. That was not the role of a woman. A woman had to be surrounded, protected, guarded. Except of course if it was just a matter of being alone overnight at the hotel as she was now, before going back to San Francisco in the morning. She would keep to her room, order room service, and in the morning leave for the airport in a limousine.