A Perfect Stranger (15 page)

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again as she reached out instinctively for Alex's hand. I can't do this, Alex' .I just can't. I meant to' I was going to' I had it all planned, how every day I could spend with John Henry, and every night I could slip out for a walk' and then come here to be with you. And when I thought of it she smiled sadly again my heart flew. I felt young and excited and happy, like she faltered, her voice barely audible, her eyes damp like a bride' . Her eyes roved slowly toward the fire, but she left her hand in his. But I'm not any of those things, Alex. I'm not young anymore, at least not that young. And I have no right to that kind of happiness, not with you. And I'm not a bride. I'm a married woman. And I have a responsibility to a very sick man. Her voice grew stronger and she pulled her hand away from his. I can't come here anymore, Alex. Not after tonight. Now when she faced him, her voice was resolute.

What made you change your mind?

Coming home. Seeing him. Remembering who I am.

Did you forget me in all that? It sounded pathetic to his own ears and he was angry at himself for saying it, but it was what he felt. Life had just dealt him a cruel blow. A woman he wanted desperately, and was not destined to have.

But she brought his hand gently to her lips and kissed it as she shook her head. I didn't forget you, Alex. And then, I never will. Almost as she said it she rose to go. He sat there watching her for a long moment, wanting to stop her, to fight her, yet knowing that there was nothing he could do. He had wanted to make love to her again, to talk to her, to spend the night with her' to spend his life with her. Slowly he got to his feet.

I want you to know something, Raphaella. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. I love you. We barely know each other and yet I know that I love you. I want you to go home and think about what you're doing, and if you change your mind, even for a moment, I want you to come back. Next week, next month, next year. I'll be here. He held her tight for a long, long time, wondering how long it would be before he would see her again. He couldn't bear the thought that perhaps he never would. I love you. Don't forget that.

I won't. There were tears streaming from her eyes now. I love you too.

They walked downstairs then, as though they both knew that there was no point staying in the house anymore, it would be too painful for them both. And with an arm around her shoulders, and her eyes filled with tears, he walked her home. She turned only once on her doorstep, waved once, and then disappeared.

For the next two months Raphaella moved as though underwater. Her every step seemed to be weighted, heavy, slow. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she couldn't walk, she could barely even talk to her husband, who puzzled at length over what might have happened in New York. Some ghastly episode of hostility with her mother, some kind of family argument or feud. It was weeks before he decided to broach the subject, but when he did, Raphaella seemed almost not to hear.

Did something happen with your mother, little one? Was she insisting that you start to spend more time in Spain? In vain he sought an answer, unable to imagine what could have brought such pain to Raphaella's eyes.

No, no' it was nothing. There had been something then. But what?

Is anyone ill?

No. She smiled bravely. Not at all. I'm only very tired, John Henry. But you mustn't trouble yourself. I should take more air. But even the endless walks didn't help her. In vain she walked from one end of the Presidio to the other, down to the little pond at the Palace of Fine Arts, and even to the edge of the bay, then struggled back up the hill. But no matter how tired or how breathless or how exhausted or how much she pressed herself, she couldn't forget him. She found herself wondering day and night what he was doing, if he was well, or happy, if he was working, or in the pretty little house on Vallejo. It seemed as though every hour of the day she wanted to know where he was. And yet she knew that in all likelihood she would never see him again, never touch him, never hold him. The realization of that made her ache to her very core, until at last she had felt so much pain that she was numb and her eyes were almost glazed.

Thanksgiving Day she sat with John Henry, moving like a robot, her eyes distant and dull. More turkey, Raphaella?

Mm? She stared at him in answer, seeming not to understand what he had just said. One of the maids had been standing by with the platter, attempting in vain to catch her attention, until John Henry finally spoke up. They were sharing Thanksgiving dinner in his bedroom, served on trays, so that he could remain in bed. His health had failed again slightly in the past two months.

Raphaella?

Yes? Oh' no' I'm sorry' . She looked away and shook her head, and then she sat there, trying to make conversation with him, but tonight he was too tired. A half hour after dinner his chin nodded down gently onto his chest, his eyelids closed, and he let out a soft snore. The nurse, who had been standing by, gently lifted the tray away from him and lowered him further into the bed, signaling to Raphaella that she might as well go. And then slowly, slowly, Raphaella walked down the endless hall to her own rooms, her mind filled with thoughts of Alex, and then, as though mesmerized, she walked to the phone. It was wrong, and she knew it. But she could call to wish him a happy Thanksgiving after all. What was wrong with that? Everything, if what she had to do was avoid him, and she knew that she did. She knew that even the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, his touch, all of it could weave her into the same delicious web again, and she had tried so hard to flee. Out of honor, out of a sense of duty, she had desperately tried, and now, as she dialed his number, she knew that she had failed. She didn't want to stay away from him for a moment longer. She couldn't. She just couldn't. Her heart pounded as she dialed the phone. It seemed an eternity before he answered, but now that she had dialed, she would not hang up.

Hello? She closed her eyes when she heard it, relief and pain and excitement sweeping over her all at once.

Hello. He didn't recognize her for a moment, and then suddenly his eyes widened, and at his end he looked as though he might go into shock.

Oh, my God.

No. She smiled softly. It's only me. I called to wish you a happy Thanksgiving.

There was a pause. Thank you. He sounded strained. How are you?

I I'm fine' . And then suddenly she decided to tell him. No matter if he had changed his mind, if he no longer loved her, if he had met someone else. She had to tell him. Even if only just this once. I'm not fine' it's been awful' I can't She almost gasped with the remembered pain and emptiness of the last two months. I can't live like this any longer. I can't bear it' oh, Alex' . Without meaning to, she had begun to cry, from sorrow as much as from relief. At least she was speaking to him again. She didn't give a damn if the world ended then and there. She was happier than she had been in months.

Where are you? His voice sounded tense.

I'm at home.

I'll meet you on the corner in five minutes.

She was going to say no, she was going to tell him that she couldn't do that, but she didn't have the strength to fight it anymore. She didn't want to. Silently she nodded her head, and then, I'll be there.

She ran into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and then dried it hurriedly in one of the huge Porthault towels, ran a comb through her dark hair, pulled open her closet, grabbed her lynx coat, and then literally ran from her room, down the stairs, and out the door. This time she had left no message, no explanation, and she didn't know how long she would be gone. Maybe five minutes, maybe an hour. But John Henry didn't need her just now. He was sleeping, he had his nurses, his servants, his doctors, and just this once, she wanted something more, much, much more. She found it as she ran hastily toward the corner, her dark hair flying behind her, the coat open, her lips suddenly caught in a half-smile, as a sparkle came to her eyes that hadn't been there in months. As she rounded the corner, suddenly she saw him there, in dark slacks and thick sweater, his hair tousled, his eyes bright, and slightly out of breath. He ran toward her so quickly and pulled her into his arms with such force that they almost collided and could easily have knocked each other out. Instead he crushed his mouth down on hers, and they seemed to stand there that way forever. It was an outrageous chance to take, there on the corner, but fortunately no one saw them, and for once in her life Raphaella didn't really care.

As though by silent agreement they began to walk slowly toward his house a few minutes later, and as he closed the door quietly behind them, Raphaella looked around her and let out a long sigh.

Welcome home. He didn't tell her then how much he had missed her. He saved that until they lay side by side in his bed. It was as though for two months they had both lived in limbo, barely alive, barely existing, between numbness and constant pain. The two months they had just endured were among the worst moments Raphaella could remember. For Alex they had been much the same, yet now it was as though none of it had ever happened, as though they had never been apart and never would be again. He wanted to ask her what would happen, but he didn't quite dare. He decided simply to cherish the moment and pray that she was ready now for something more than they had had in the past two months.

Happy Thanksgiving, my darling' . He pulled her once more into his arms and they made love yet again. It was after ten o'clock when he finally remembered the turkey he had left cooking in the oven. It was an hour overcooked, but when they went down to the kitchen to find it, neither of them cared. Raphaella wore his bathrobe, and Alex wore blue jeans and a shirt, and together they ate and they talked and they laughed. It was indeed a homecoming, and unlike her first Thanksgiving dinner earlier that evening, this time Raphaella ate as though she hadn't seen food in years.

And your work? It's going well? She looked so happy as they sat there, she was smiling like a relaxed, happy child.

I wouldn't say that. He looked sheepish. If I worked for someone else, I'd probably have lost my job in the last two months.

I don't believe that, Alex.

It's true. I haven't been able to keep my mind on anything.

She looked momentarily sobered. Neither have I' . And then she looked at him again and her eyes gentled. Except you. It was like a kind of madness which took me and just wouldn't let me go.

Did you want it to?

Yes. If only to stop the pain. It was she looked away, embarrassed it was a very difficult time for me, Alex. I have been wrestling with my conscience since the last time I saw you.

And what happened tonight? What made you call?

I couldn't bear it any longer. I felt as though I might die if I didn't speak to you right then. He nodded, knowing the feeling only too well. And then he leaned across the table to kiss her.

Thank God you called. I don't think I could have stood it much longer. I wanted to call you so badly. A hundred times I had the phone in my hand. Twice I even called, but you didn't answer, so I just hung up. God, I thought I'd go nuts. She nodded in silent understanding, understanding, and as he watched her he decided to take the next step. And now? They were terrifying words, but he had to ask her. He had to know sooner of later, and he wanted to know now. Do you know what you want to do now, Raphaella? He was leaving it to her, but he had already decided that he wouldn't let her go as easily this time. Not after what they had both been through. But this time he didn't have to fight her. She smiled softly at him and touched his hand with her own.

We'll do what we have to ' to be together as much as we can.

He sat watching her for a moment, as though he were afraid to believe what she had just told him. Do you mean that?

Yes. Do you still want me? I mean the way you did before?

But what he did next answered her question. He pulled her from her seat and took her in his arms with such force and passion that she could barely breathe.

Alex!

Does that answer your question? There was fire and joy and excitement suddenly in his eyes. My God, woman, how I love you. Yes, I want you. I love you, I need you. And I'll accept any way we have to work things out, so we can be together as much as we can, without hurting you, or or She nodded. He didn't want to say John Henry's name. In fact He stood up suddenly again and strode across the kitchen where he pulled open a drawer and fished out a single key. He walked back to where she sat, reached for her hand, and carefully put the key in it. That's the key to this house, my darling, and I want you to be here whenever you can, as much as you want to, whether I'm here or not. Her eyes filled with tears then, and he pulled her gently into his arms, and a few moments later they wandered slowly upstairs again. She had the key to the house in the dressing gown pocket, and there was a smile in her eyes that had never been there before. She had never been happier in her life.

They spent the next three hours making love to each other again and again, and at last, as they lay side by side, still not totally sated, yet infinitely content, Raphaella jumped in surprise as she heard the phone. Alex frowned as he listened, shrugged, and then picked it up, sitting up slowly in the bed. And then, as he listened, the frown deepened, and without thinking, he stood up, still holding the phone, with an expression of horror on his face. What' when' ? Oh, my God. How is she? He knit his brows and his hand trembled as he grabbed a pen. The conversation went on in garbled monosyllables for a few more minutes and then he hung up and dropped his head into his hands with a soft moan. Raphaella stared at him in horror. All she could think of was his mother.

Alex ' Her voice was fearful and gentle. Darling ' what is it? What happened ' ? ' Tell me ' please ' Her hands were gentle on his shoulders, and then softly she stroked his head and his neck as he began to cry. It seemed like hours before he looked up at her.

It's Amanda, my niece. The words were a hoarse croak as she sat there. And then, with enormous effort, he told her the rest. She's been raped. They just found her. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and going on. After Thanksgiving dinner this afternoon she went skating ' alone ' in the park, and His voice faltered. She was beaten, Raphaella. Her arms are broken, and my mother said He cried openly again as he spoke. They beat up her face, and and his voice dropped to a whisper they raped her' little Mandy' . He couldn't go on then and Raphaella took him in her arms with tears flooding her eyes.