White Satin

by Iris Johansen

  “I try not to,” Dany said with a shiver as she took off her coat. “It makes me feel a little sick when I do. Besides, I wasn’t wandering around the city. After practice this morning I decided to go over to the slopes to see the downhill.” Her smile became brilliant. “We won the gold, Marta. Isn’t that terrific?”

  “I know. I watched it on television.” Marta’s eyes were gentle as they rested on Dany’s face. It was good to see her come alive again, Marta thought. In the week they’d been in Calgary she’d been so quiet, almost somber, that both she and Beau had been worried as hell. “He was wonderful, wasn’t he?”

  “Wonderful,” Dany echoed as she crossed to the closet and reached in and took out a hanger. “We,” she repeated dreamily. “I said we won the gold, and do you know, that’s the way I felt when I stood there and watched them slowly raise the flag. Lord, I was proud.” She hung the coat in the closet, shut the door, and leaned against it, her eyes still seeing the flag whipping in the breeze while “The Star-Spangled Banner” played triumphantly. “I cried,” she said simply. “All of a sudden I realized that I wasn’t only representing myself but my country. I know patriotism is considered old-fashioned, but by God, I felt patriotic.” A little shadow crossed her face. “You know, Anthony once said to me that when I won the gold, it would be a bribe to the whole world to love me. I think perhaps there might have been some truth in that at the time.” She straightened and squared her shoulders. “But it’s not true now. There are all sorts of reasons why I want to win the gold, but to use it as a bribe isn’t one of them.”

  “He shouldn’t have said that,” Marta said gruffly.

  “It hurt at the time; the truth often does.” Dany dropped into the beige easy chair across from the couch where Marta was sitting. “But it made me think too. I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last week, and maybe a little growing up.” She smiled sadly. “I thought I was so mature and wise before.” She made a little face. “I was even a little smug.” She held up her hand as Marta was about to protest. “I was smug. I was so self-centered that I couldn’t see anything but my own point of view. I took yours and Beau’s affection and support for granted. I resented being known as Anthony’s Galatea but maybe I really needed a Pygmalion. I certainly wasn’t a complete person on my own.”

  “And now you are?” Marta teased.

  Dany shook her head. “No way. Give me another twenty or thirty years, and I just might make it.”

  “Well, if you want to have that twenty or thirty years, it would be wise to be a bit more careful about wandering around without Beau or me to run interference,” Marta said dryly. “It’s part of our job to keep you safe, and you’re not letting us do it.”

  “Nonsense. Beau is my coach and you’re my masseuse. Neither of you is responsible for my safety.”

  “No?” Marta lifted a skeptical brow. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that a masseuse isn’t required on a live-in basis? When Anthony hired me, he was much more interested in the fact that I was a security officer in the WACs than in my physical-therapy background. He made it very clear that my primary duty was going to be as bodyguard, not masseuse.”

  “No, it didn’t occur to me.” Dany’s eyes had widened in shock. “I suppose, knowing Anthony, it should have. He’s a great one for putting up protective barriers.”

  “You might consider that that particular barrier was built around you because he was genuinely worried about your safety,” Marta said quietly. “You were in the public eye and the protégée of a very rich man. That can be a very dangerous position for a teenage girl to be placed in. He couldn’t be with you, but he wanted to make sure you were as secure as if he were right there on the spot.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t necessary,” Marta said calmly. “There wasn’t any use worrying you about a situation that might never occur. And we were lucky. It never did occur. I could concentrate on being just your masseuse.” She smiled. “And your friend, I hope.”

  “Oh, yes,” Dany said, reaching out to clasp Marta’s strong, square hand. “Above all, my friend, Marta.” She blinked rapidly to keep back the tears. “I’ve been very lucky in the past six years—in more ways than one.”

  Marta cleared her throat. “And we’ll work to keep it that way,” she said briskly. “The four of us make a great team.” She reached out for the phone on the end table beside the couch. “Now, suppose I phone Beau’s room at the Olympic Village and let him know you’re safe and sound. The last time he called he sounded pretty concerned.”

  The four of us, Dany mused. For a moment the pain was sharp and tearing. Not any longer. There would only be the three of them from now on. Then she lifted her chin and smiled with determined cheerfulness. “You’d better do that. We wouldn’t want our Beau in a dither. It would definitely spoil his laid-back image.”

  She leaned back lazily in the chair and watched as Marta punched in the phone number and spoke into the receiver. It had been a good workout this morning, and she’d done better than she’d expected on the compulsory figures yesterday. She was going to be fine. All she had to do was live one day at a time, one moment at a time. Anthony had given her strength, and she could survive anything, even living without him.

  “Dany.”

  Her attention flicked back to Marta, who was now replacing the receiver. She tensed as she saw the troubled, almost hesitant expression on Marta’s face. “Beau said to tell you Anthony had called him between planes from Salt Lake City. That was nearly three hours ago and should have put him into the airport here about five thirty.”

  Dany cast a glance at her wristwatch. “It’s almost six thirty now,” she said, her voice calm and steady. How odd it was so steady when her heart was pounding so hard, she told herself. “He should be here at the hotel anytime.” She stood up. “I’d better comb my hair and freshen up a little.” She stood up and strode hurriedly across the sitting room toward the bathroom door. “Otherwise Anthony’s going to think I’m a figment from his delirium. The wind on those slopes really tore me to pieces.” She was speaking too fast. She bit her lower lip and tried to smile serenely. “Tell me when he—”

  A knock sounded on the front door. A very firm, decisive knock.

  “I don’t think I’m going to have to tell you,” Marta said dryly. “That’s definitely an Anthony-type knock.” She rose to her feet. “And I fully intend to make myself scarce, so you can just answer the door yourself. I have an idea I’m going to be in the way.” As she passed Dany on the way to the bedroom, she gave her a gentle push in the direction of the door. “Go on, Dany. Galatea had to confront Pygmalion sometime. It may be easier than you think.”

  Marta was right. For a moment she’d felt more like Eliza Doolittle before her transformation, and that wasn’t to be tolerated. She moved determinedly to open the door.

  Anthony looked thin and far paler than she’d ever seen him in the dark business suit and chesterfield overcoat. His skin was almost sallow instead of the bronze she was accustomed to. Her heart gave a queer little lurch. Had he been so ill then?

  There was nothing in the least weak or ill in his demeanor, however. His silver-green eyes were blazing, and the aura of vitality that surrounded him was positively glowing. “Hello, Dany,” he said coolly as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I see you made it back safely. It wasn’t very considerate of you to worry Beau and Marta by disappearing like that.”

  She stiffened. “I was perfectly all right,” she protested. Then she drew a steadying breath. Anthony hadn’t been in the room a moment and she was on the defensive. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “Next time I’ll let them know where I’m going.” She turned and walked to the center of the room. “Would you like to sit down? You don’t appear any too well, Anthony. Perhaps you should have stayed in the hospital a little longer.”

  “I discharged myself three days ago,” he said impatiently as he took off the charcoal-gray overcoat and tossed it careless
ly on the couch. She felt a tremor of uneasiness. Anthony definitely wasn’t his usual contained, orderly self, and it was obvious that the vitality she’d sensed was liberally laced with anger. “I’ve been tied up with business, hoping to clear the decks so I could get here for your short program.”

  “It’s day after tomorrow,” she said. “I did better than we expected on the compulsories.” She rushed on hurriedly. “Nora Schmidt, the East German girl, is ahead of me, but I don’t have as many points to make up as we thought I would. If I do well on the short program, I’ll go into the long program in second place.” Slow down, Dany told herself. Don’t let him see how upset you are. “With the long program counting fifty percent of the total score, I’ve got a pretty good shot at first. You know the long program is always my forte.”

  “Yes, I know all that.” Anthony’s voice was very precise. “Now if you’re quite finished imparting all the information Beau’s kept me abreast of since you left Briarcliff, perhaps you’ll be so kind as to explain the visit I received this morning from Dunnely.”

  “Only this morning?” Her hand reached out to trace the weave of the fabric on the high-backed chair she was standing beside. “I would have thought he’d get to you before that. He seemed like such an ultraefficient little man.”

  “He is,” Anthony said crisply. “The only reason he didn’t was that he assumed I’d be aware of what you were doing. It’s not often a man is deeded a multimillion-dollar estate without his knowledge.” His smile was mirthless. “Not to mention that charming promissory note you signed for two hundred thousand dollars. Dunnely was very impressed with your honesty and sense of responsibility. He couldn’t understand why I was so angry.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t accept Briarcliff,” she said, looking down at the pattern her nail was tracing on the back of the chair. Lord, this was even more difficult than she’d imagined. The pain was growing with every second. “And I owe you the money you’ve invested in me over the years. It’s probably much more now than those newspapers estimated. If you could have your accountant—”

  “Be quiet!” His voice was so sharp it startled her, and she glanced up to see his eyes blazing with fury. “You sound like an accountant yourself, very cut and dried with all the loose ends neatly tied. Did you think I wouldn’t realize what you were doing with that very expensive Dear John message you sent through Dunnely? It had a ringing note of finality.” He drew a deep breath and was obviously trying to regain control. “You went to a great deal of trouble to make your gesture. Too bad it was all for nothing. Both of your very official documents went into the fire.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said steadily. “It only means I’ll have to do them all over again.”

  “The hell you will!” His hands balled into fists. “I’m not accepting any walking papers from you, official or otherwise.” His hands slowly unclenched. “We’re obviously going to have to talk it out. I gather from the hints Beau dropped that you were upset when I became ill. Look, I’m sorry if I caused you any inconvenience. I don’t remember much about that night, but I realize that sickness isn’t exactly attractive. I tried—”

  “Attractive!” She was staring at him in disbelief. “What the hell do I care whether you were ‘attractive’ or not? You were sick. I wanted to help you. I would have done anything in the world to help you. What kind of self-centered woman do you think I am?”

  His face softened. “You know what kind of woman I think you are. I’ve made that more than clear.”

  “Oh, yes, you’ve made that clear,” she said, her voice shaking. “You ‘love’ me. You’ve learned to say the words now, but you don’t really know what they mean. You proved that last week and you proved it again today.”

  “Because I wanted to spare you the drudgery and inconvenience of caring for a malaria victim?” he asked. “A fever case isn’t all that easy or pretty.”

  “Who told you I wanted anything easy? All I asked is that you share with me. I wanted to know the bad times as well as the good. You couldn’t understand that, could you, Anthony? You thought I’d be satisfied just coasting along and letting you take all the responsibility and the hard knocks just as you’ve always done.” Her voice was suddenly fierce. “You could have died that night. If you’d been dangling from the side of that damn mountain and I’d held out my hand to help, you’d probably have refused to accept it. You’d rather have me go through the hell of waiting and wondering if I was ever going to see you again.” Her dark eyes were blazing now. “Well, I’m not going to stand by and let you do it to me again. Not ever. You almost destroyed me that night. You told me you didn’t need me and never would. Okay, I’ll go along with that, but I can’t live in the same little insular cocoon you do. I’ll just have to learn not to need you too.” She paused. “And for me that also means learning not to love you.”

  “So we’re back to square one,” he said coolly. “I’m being shown the door. You know, of course, that I’m not going to accept that. I told you that from now on you were going to belong to me. Nothing you’ve said has changed that.” His lips twisted in a bitter smile. “I’m afraid I don’t have your powers of adaptability. I can’t stop loving you because it hurts me or is best for me. It just goes on.” He abruptly stepped forward, his hands grasping her shoulders. “And I think it’s going to go on for you too. Even if you can stop caring for me, you’re going to want me.” He suddenly pulled her close to the warmth of his body and smiled mockingly as he saw the shiver of response that went through her. “See? That insurance I took out is paying dividends. You’re going to lie awake at night and remember all the things we did together, and you’re going to want to do them again.” His hand dropped to encircle her breast, lifting and toying with its soft weight through the cashmere sweater. “You’re going to ache and throb until I’m back beside you in that bed.” His eyes held hers with mesmerizing intensity. “I’d be willing to wager you’ve already been doing that—just as I have, Dany.” The color flooded her cheeks and there was a trace of a bittersweet satisfaction in his smile. “I thought so.”

  “I’ll get over it,” she said desperately.

  He shook his head. “No, you won’t. For the simple reason that I’m not going to let you. Whenever you turn around, I’ll be there reminding you. I’m going to be the shadow behind you and the nemesis in front of you. You’ll be back in my bed within a month.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’m stronger than that.”

  “In a battle against anyone else perhaps,” he said, his silver-green eyes glacier-cold. His hand squeezed her breast gently and she felt liquid fire begin to smolder in the pit of her stomach. “I think you’ll find it an entirely different matter when it comes to fighting yourself.” His hands fell away from her and he stepped back. “It’s too late to back away from me now, Dany. I’ll just come after you. For the rest of your life I’ll be either beside you or behind you. Take your pick.” He picked up his coat from the couch and draped it over his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to harass you while we’re in Calgary. I won’t even try to see you until the competition is over.” He turned toward the door. “I want all your concentration on your work. I can wait. I’ve become very good at that over the years.”

  “It won’t do you any good,” Dany said despairingly.

  “I think it will.” He turned at the door, and for a moment his eyes were no longer cool but naked and raw with pain. “And you’re wrong. If you held out your hand to save me from a precipice, I’d take it in a minute. I wouldn’t let even death separate us now.”

  The competitor from East Germany raised her leg in a camel spin with a precise grace that was a miracle of strength and coordination. “She’s almost swanlike,” Dany whispered to Beau from where they stood on the sidelines observing Nora Schmidt’s short program. “And she’s very strong too. I noticed that in Brussels last year when she placed third in the Worlds. Her long program should be even better than her short.”

  “She
’s not so great,” Marta sniffed from beside her. “Her legs are too long. She looks like a giraffe.”

  “You said Margie Brandon looked like a cow on ice,” Dany said affectionately. “We’re rapidly acquiring a menagerie.”

  “Well, I was right,” Marta said with satisfaction. “You noticed that Brandon only placed fourteenth in the compulsories.”

  “Schmidt’s program’s been practically faultless,” Beau said. His eyes were narrowed on the dark-haired skater as she ended the program with a beautifully executed spin. “That classical style combined with her technical precision will almost certainly keep her in first. I was hoping she’d screw up so you’d have a chance of taking over first right away. It would take a hell of a lot of pressure off you.”

  Dany shrugged. “We’re in no worse shape than we thought we’d be.” She made a wry face. “That is, we won’t be if I don’t screw up.” She straightened the sky-blue chiffon of her costume. “I’m up next, aren’t I?”

  “Right after Schmidt’s second set of scores come up,” Beau drawled. “And you won’t screw up. You and Scarlett are both survivors, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” she said lightly, then impulsively asked the question she’d been avoiding thinking about all afternoon. “Is Anthony here, Beau?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “He’s here,” he finally said quietly. “He decided not to come back to the dressing room. He’s in a front row box across the arena. Is it going to bother you to know that?”

  “No, it won’t bother me,” she said with a reassuring smile. She carefully kept her gaze from searching the arena. She didn’t want to know exactly where Anthony was, but she’d been telling the truth when she’d said Anthony’s presence didn’t disturb her. Even if all other aspects of their relationship had changed, she knew that one hadn’t. She knew he’d be giving her silent support, willing her to succeed, willing her to be all she could be. She felt her spirits lift just at the thought. “It can only help.”