Of Body And Soul (2 page)

He peered
out of the living room window and watched.
Damn.
It’s been five years since I’ve seen her and now she’s leaving.
He walked to the sofa, plopped down and dropped his head into his hands. At thirty-nine, his life still hung in limbo. 

Choked by despond
ency, his mind drifted to Afghanistan and his job as a war correspondent.

When
American troops poured into Afghanistan, he went with them into the caves in search of Bin Laden. As a correspondent, he interviewed the superior officers, who enabled him to get first-hand information, both on and off the record.

For months
, he slept and ate with the troops. He talked with them about their families and their jobs. At night, he sat with them and admired countless family photos of children, spouses, and parents.

He watched as the soldiers cried when they read letters from their loved ones. He wrote day and night
, and was never far from the action. At night, the skies lit up like a laser show at Disney, as the two armies exchanged missile fire. At times he wondered if he’d ever return home.

He went from
Afghanistan to Iraq to Iran. Israel and Palestine were next and then back to Afghanistan. Anywhere but home. He had made more money than any correspondent deserved to make and developed a wonderful portfolio of investments.

His stories and articles
had been published in
Time
and
Newsweek
. His journals were full of information for his up-coming novel. Even though the last few years had been frustrating, it had provided a unique experience for him. Now, he was home.

The only thing that made his life beara
ble during the coverage of the
War on Terrorism
was the thought of Andrea. Her scent, her voice, her grace had been seared into his memory.

He
went back to the window and watched Andrea race up the driveway and back to her house. Within seconds she came out with an envelope tucked in her gloved hand. "You won't get away from me again. Not this time," he called through the closed window.

"Why are you shouting?
" Emily asked when she walked into the living room. She had missed her brother and was thankful he was home.

Emily
stood beside Kurt and followed his glance. "Apparently, I’m no longer the center of your affection," she teased, realizing the reason of his focus. 

"Where’s she going, anyway?"
Kurt threw his arms up, fists balled. "I don’t believe this."

Emi
ly frowned. "Why are you so angry?" Emily placed her hands on her hips as fire shot from her green eyes. She pushed her dark auburn hair away from her face and glared up at him

"I'm sorry, Em.  I'm just tired." He put his arms ar
ound his petite sister and gave her a peck on the forehead. Emily had a calming effect on him. They'd been through a lot together and he missed her while he was away. This had been the longest time they'd been separated.

"In answer to your question, Andrea's on her way to
Vail to meet Jason. You remember Jason, don't you?"

"Remember him? How could I forget tha
t egotistical ass? They were at my farewell party before I left for Afghanistan. If you remember correctly, he spent all of twenty minutes with her that entire evening. He was too busy working the room, making deals."

Emily
smiled. "How could he do otherwise? You monopolized her evening."

"I know," he said sheepishly. "That's when I fell in love with her." He smiled as he reme
mbered that night.

"Jason gave Andrea grief over
the time she had spent with you."

"He did?"

"Yes. She mentioned that Jason threw a fit because she spent the whole evening with you. He was thrilled when you left the country."

"She told you that?" he sm
iled happily. "Em, why hadn’t I met Andrea before that party?"

"Do you want to know the real reason
?” She paused. “Andrea wants a family. And I know you don't."

"Well, maybe if I had someone like her in my life, things would be different."

Emily looked at her brother, surprised by his answer.

"Don't look at me like that, Em. I'm trying to come to grips with my problem."

"Oh, Kurt.” Emily rubbed her eyes as if to wipe the bad memories away. “Life’s too short to let our childhood ruin our lives.” Emily went over to her brother and embraced him. “I'm so proud of you."

The compulsion that had driven him home had turned into fiery determination. He was happy, but at the same time worried about the f
eelings that had overtaken him—the excitement, like that first big run down a snowy mountain, pumped adrenaline through his veins. He tried to deny his enthusiasm, but he realized he loved it. He never thought he’d feel this way about a woman.

"Hey, Kurt, are you with me?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, smiled and ambled back over to the window.

Emily saw the look of
resolve on his face and smiled to herself. She had seen this look often as they were growing up.
Andrea doesn't have a chance of getting away from Kurt now.
She shook her head and grinned.

Kurt turned, "W
hat's so funny, Em?"

"You . . .
You have
that
look on your face."

He nodded, but
didn't say a word.

"Well . . ." Emily had
a sweet edge to her voice. "You said you knew Jason and Andrea's relationship wouldn't last and you wanted to be around when it ended.”

Her announcement, unexpected but amusing, surprised him.
"You remember that!" he chuckled.

"Yes, I do
," she said over her shoulder. "I knew when you didn't leave her side that night you had a thing for her. You thought you were being cool and elusive when you wrote to me, but I knew how you felt about her. I'm surprised you never tried to contact her."

"I tried. But every time I called, Jason answered the phone. After awhile, I
just gave up.” Kurt paused. “Em, why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Because I couldn't betray Andrea's confidence until she
made the final decision. She’d told me their relationship had become comfortable and convenient and she wanted more than that. She wants a family, Kurt."

Kurt shoved his hands into his
pockets.

"Think about this before you jump into anything with her. She's my best friend and a wonde
rful person. I don't want her hurt."

"I'd never hurt her, Em. I love her."

"But, do you love her enough?" Emily went to the sofa table and retrieved a white envelope. She turned to her brother. "Please, Kurt, really think about this." She tapped the corner of the packet against his chest and then handed it to him.

He gasped
when he saw the plane tickets. "On the same plane?"

Em smiled
. "You'd better get moving or you'll miss your flight."

"You still take care of your baby brother, don't you?" His eyebrows rose i
n obvious pleasure.

Emily followed him to the porch
. "Hey," she shouted as he climbed into his car. "What about clothes?"

He raised his hands in surrender, "I'll buy new ones."

Emily wrapped the sweater around her shoulders and watched her brother speed down the street. “Slow down,” she shouted after him.

The cold gripped her and sh
e went back into the house, poured a cup of coffee, and sat on a cushion in front of the fire.

The flames leaped, crackled and hissed
, warming the room. Emily leaned against the sofa and closed her eyes.

In Emily’s memories, she was eighteen again—the last time she saw her father. All the years before that, she avoided the man as much as she could. As she matured, Kurt insisted she stay at a friend's house when their dad returned home from one of his sales trips.

He was
a sales agent for a large insurance company which kept him away for months at a time. A blessing in disguise. If it wasn't for that, she and Kurt couldn't have survived the abuse.

For m
ost of their childhood, they had lived with their parents in Dennis Port, Cape Cod. She remembered when her father came home from his trips, terror walked in with him. Recurring dreams of brutal beatings, tears, and pain haunted her.

Emily wrapped her arms
tightly across her chest as if to protect herself whenever she relived those awful memories. "
You're useless,"
her father would shout at Kurt.
"You're a piece of trash to be thrown away with last night's garbage. You're nothing. You'll never amount to anything. You’re a piece of shit,”
he’d shout over and over, as he beat Kurt repeatedly with anything in his grasp.

She flinched, covering her ear
s as she remembered the scathing sound of those beatings. That night, that terrible last night, Emily and Kurt vowed secrecy to one another.

She had returned home
from her girlfriend’s earlier than usual and was just about to cross the street, when her father’s car barreled away from their house. The car brushed her side, and just before she hit the tarmac, their eyes met.              

Hatred poured from his demonic eyes and she knew something terrible had
happened. She cried as she stumbled, and then ran to the house. Once there she faced an open door and a living room in shambles. Her mother sat on the floor with Kurt cradled in her arms. She rocked back and forth while she sang
Daddy’s going to buy you a Mockingbird,
Kurt’s favorite lullaby.

B
lood dripped from her mouth, and finger marks reddened her throat. Her eyes, glassy and staring, had begun to swell shut. She looked like a boxer after the last round.

E
mily dropped to her knees. "Mom," she whispered. “Mom, let me rock Kurt for a little while."

Her mother looked at her bewildered. "Who are you?” she asked flatly as she continued to rock faster and faster. "Kurt fell down and hurt himself," she said, as she tugged at her dress and pressed her hair into place. "Where's my purse?" she whimpered, "I need my li
pstick."

Emily gently pulled her brother from her mother’s lap and laid him on
the floor. She smelled a sweet acrid smoky odor even before she saw the gun.       

"Oh God, Kurt. W
hat has he done to you?" she cried.

Kurt
didn't respond, nor did he move. He was covered in blood, and she couldn’t determine if the blood came from the beating or from a gunshot wound. She settled her unresisting mother on the sofa and dialed 911.

Emily knelt by Kurt
and smoothed his hair back from his gashed and battered face. She desperately wanted to touch him and hold him, but was afraid she might hurt him.

She loathed her father
for what he had done, but she despised her mother even more.
Why would Mom have allowed this vile man to abuse us time and time again?

Neither sh
e nor Kurt ever saw their father again, which was just as well. She shuddered every time she thought of her father.             

T
heir world changed after that night. Kurt almost died from his beating and needed extensive medical, physical and mental rehabilitation. She also needed counseling for the guilt she carried during Kurt's years of bearing the brunt of their father's abuse.

Their father tried to press charges against Kurt for attempted murder, but the jury didn’t see it his way. He was sentenced and went to prison for child abuse. T
heir mother never recuperated from that night. She was institutionalized and died there ten years later. Emily and Kurt saw her often before her death. During their visits, they learned to understand that she was as much a victim as they had been. Before they closed the house on the Cape, they found bank books and stock certificates in their names. In her way, she did watch out for them.

Years later
, as they struggled to put their lives back on track, Kurt confided to Em that when he pulled the trigger that night, he swore he'd never have children—never be put in the position of doing what their father had done to them.

CHAPTER TWO

Andrea propped her head against the pillow and waited for the other pa
ssengers to board. She tried to gather her thoughts when a passenger stepped on her foot as she tried to slide by her to the window seat.

The woman stepped back.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. Excuse me, please! I need to get in there," she motioned with her head.

Andrea looked up to
see a plump older woman carting a swollen Gucci carry-on.

She stood an
d stepped into the aisle to allow the woman to get to her seat.
Oh no, I don't need her right now,
she thought.

While
Andrea waited for the passenger to get to her seat and settle in, she glimpsed the back of a man a few rows back who had wide shoulders and sun-bleached hair. For an instant, he looked like the same person she'd seen earlier at Emily's house.
That's crazy. It couldn't be.
She turned and looked up the aisle once again, but he disappeared in the wave of high-back seats.

Once
the woman settled in, Andrea sat down then closed her eyes.
Leave it to Jason to choose a place almost three thousand miles away for this rendezvous. Well, at least, it forces me to take a vacation.
She smirked at the thought.

When Jason called two weeks ago his first words were,
"It's been four months, Andrea." They’d separated three times during the past year, and always, she let him move back. But this was the last time. It was over.

The months had flown by and she was content without him.
Her career was on track, having sold four of her paintings, and the rest shipped to Arthur's in New York for his exhibit.

She remembered
Jason’s conceit. He was sure his absence would bring her loneliness and she’d want him back. But, little did he know, his charisma had disappeared along with her dependency on him and this weekend was payback. He’d humiliated her once too often.

Andrea fidgeted
in the seat. Her face mirrored her unpleasant thoughts. When she glanced at the older woman, soft hazel eyes gazed back at her.

"Are you all right
, dear?" the woman asked.

"Yes, thank you." Andrea stared at her a moment and thought the woman looked
vaguely familiar.

"Is th
e seat between us occupied?" the woman asked, gesturing broadly with her right arm.

"I don't think so."

"Great. I'd like to get some of these things off my lap," and before the last word was spoken, she dumped everything onto the middle seat.

What a unique character,
Andrea thought.

"Hi,
I'm Grayson." Her hand shot over the not-so-empty seat and pumped Andrea's with surprising strength.

"Andrea," she whispered.
Her surprised look greeted Grayson's, as each stared at the other in disbelief. "Grayson, Aunt Grayson? It is you?”

“I can’t believe it.” Grayson
held her hand over her heart. “How many years have . . .?”

Andrea reached across the seat and took Gr
ayson's hand in hers. "Seventeen!"

"Has it been that long since
your Mom and Dad died?" she whispered.

"Yes, it has.
" Andrea nodded.

“T
he four of us were inseparable you know."

"I know. You always took
vacations together and played bridge at our house."

"
Indeed we did. Do you still have that wonderful house?"

"No.
” Andrea paused. “I just couldn't bear to live there any longer. A lovely family with three small children bought it."

"Did you keep all the furniture?"

"Of course. I couldn’t leave all those memories behind. Aunt Grayson, do you remember the burled inlaid mahogany game table?"

"Do I
ever remember?" She exploded with laughter and tears spilled from her eyes. "Your Mom and I used signals to beat your Dad and Uncle Charles in cards. They always accused us of cheating, but they could never catch us."

Gr
ayson's infectious laughter encouraged Andrea to join in. Both sat back and relished the moment. Grayson began to cough and patted her chest as if the motion would make the cough go away.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine, dear. I haven't laughed like this in such a long time." She dabbed the corner of her eyes and smoothed out her skirt. "We had so much fun. Your parents were great friends." Grayson reached over and touched Andrea. She smiled a smile that reached clear from her heart.

“
Aunt Grayson, do you still have your practice?"

"Oh no. When Uncle Charles was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I went into a deep depre
ssion. Can you imagine a despondent psychiatrist? Well, after Charles passed on, I realized that I had never dealt with the loss of your parents either.” Grayson fiddled with a book that she had pulled out from her carryon.

“
The trauma of your parents’ accident and my Charles did me in. I couldn't cope. How could I help my patients when I couldn't help myself? My patients deserved a doctor who was in total control, and I wasn't that person. A young doctor, Doctor Mendoza, had moved to Taos, New Mexico and I went to him for help. I took a sabbatical for a year, and after that year, I semi-retired. Doctor Mendoza worked with me and eventually took over the practice.” Grayson sat forward in her seat. “He helped me a great deal and I knew he'd be good for my patients. In fact, he still calls me for advice. Can you believe that?" She dropped her eyes and inhaled deeply, as if it were her last breath.

"Oh, Grayson, I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch with you.
You've been through so much. I was wrapped up in my own grief and I never took the time to consider anyone else. How selfish of me. You don't know how many times I tried to return your calls and answer your letters, but I couldn't. Then, your letters and calls stopped coming. It was kind of a relief. You know?"

Grayson nodded
in agreement. "I know, and it's okay, dear. I felt the same way after Charles died. Now we both know life goes on." She looked fondly at Andrea. “It’s so good to see you again.”

The
scratchy sound of the intercom broke up their conversation. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain,” he announced. “The plane is being de-iced and there will be a slight delay.” Moans and groans from the passengers filled the plane. Andrea and Grayson smiled and sat back, ready to enjoy the extra time they'd have together.

"Aunt Grayson, what brought you to upstate
New York this time of year?"

"Do you r
emember the property we had on Saratoga Lake?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Mom and Dad brought me there every A
ugust for the season."

"They sur
ely did," Grayson nodded. "Saratoga buzzed during that time. When you were a toddler, your Mom hired a nanny to take care of you, and the four of us would go off to the racetrack and lose our shirts.  When you grew older, you came with us. They were wonderful summers," she said, reminiscing.

Andrea leaned
closer to Grayson. “I recall—I was nine, maybe ten, when you purchased the summer house. You taught me to swim in Saratoga Lake. You also made my first bet at the race track."

"It'
s remarkable you remember. Your Mom would have killed me if she'd known," she smiled.

"I
recall a lot about that race track, especially the flowers. They were everywhere. Magnificent beds of red and white roses lined the entrances into the grandstands. Some of them were as large as china teacups. Huge terra cotta pots filled with showy red geraniums hung from the club house verandas. You and my Mom always wore the most beautiful straw hats and silk dresses. If I closed my eyes right now, I could hear the swish of the silk as the two of you scurried back and forth from the betting windows to the dining table.

“
I also remember Aunt Hattie's Restaurant,” said Andrea. “It was down on that narrow side street around the corner from the Adelphi Hotel.”

Grayson nodded.
“We'd wait in line for hours.”

“My d
ad would say in his Clark Gable drawl,” she imitated, ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn how long we have to wait. Aunt Hattie makes the best damn fried chicken in the whole wide world’, and he was right. I've never tasted the likes of it again."

"You recollect that! Did you know the only time we won on a race was when you chose the horse? Your Dad and Uncle Charles would sit for hours with handicap sheets, studying the odds. You'd choose the horse by its color or by the le
ngth of its tail.” Grayson blinked, her eyes and mouth smiled. "Now, getting back to your question. I had to come to Saratoga to sign over the deed to the cottage. Truthfully, I needed to take one final look."

"Are you sorry you sold the property?"

"No, not really. I have the property in Taos, New Mexico, and that's where Uncle Charles and I spent most of our time, especially his last year."

"How long are you staying in Vail
?"

“Honestly
, I don't know. A friend of mine from New York has a condo in Vail. We planned to meet in Saratoga, but when I called her, she said she was leaving New York earlier than expected. She invited me to Vail. So, I thought, why not?"

Andrea patted Gra
yson’s hand. "They say there is no such thing as coincidence. This was meant to be.”

"I know. If my friend didn’t
change her mind, I wouldn't be on this plane," Grayson said.

"Then you’re not sure when you’re leaving
for Taos?"

"
Possibly in a couple of days. I shouldn’t stay much longer. I think I’m going to sell the Taos property. I can’t make up my mind as what to do. Uncle Charles loved that place," she smiled.