It was impossible to contain her elation. “I’m going to spend the day in the city.”
Dot arched on eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. I’m going for a walk in Central Park, maybe take in a show, dinner...” She tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably. “I’m going out on a date, Mom,” she said, bursting into laughter. “With Johnny!”
* * *
“You look beautiful, honey.” Dot’s eyes shone with pride ninety minutes later. “Like something out of a fashion magazine.”
Catherine looked at her reflection in the bedroom mirror and frowned. “Are you certain this dress doesn’t look its age?”
“Positive. With that belt it looks almost brand-new.”
Catherine studied herself carefully. The white belt set off her narrow waist and emphasized the graceful lines of the gently flaring skirt that came just at the middle of her knee. The bodice fit snugly; the deep U-neckline bared her collarbone, while the short puffed sleeves narrowed in to a starched cuff a fraction above her elbow. It was the perfect springtime dress. Young and fresh and pastel pink with buttons shaped like rosebuds. With her white gloves and peekaboo hat, it could almost pass for something from Vogue!
“Well,” she said, grabbing her purse from the dressing table, “I’m off.”
Dot gave her a big hug. “You have a wonderful time, honey.”
Catherine managed a nervous smile. “Are you sure I shouldn’t pin my hair up?”
Dot laughed and pushed her out the door. “Positive. You look beautiful with it down around your shoulders. You’re only young once, honey. Now go out and meet your young man.”
Johnny was pacing the sidewalk in front of the house. His hair was neatly combed and he wore dark gray trousers, cuffless thanks to the war effort, a white shirt and tie, and a suit jacket. He had filled out considerably since his return home, and she noted the way his shoulders strained the seams of his jacket as he raised a cigarette to his mouth. She’d seen him every single day for the past three months, but suddenly she felt as if he was a stranger. He turned and grinned at her as she started down the steps. An extremely handsome stranger...
“You look swell,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette on the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe.
“Thank you.” Her own feet, in her open-toed pumps, looked so small next to his. “So do you.”
He looked down at her. She looked up at him. He wouldn’t kiss her right there in the middle of Hansen Street, would he? He moved closer. Her breath caught. Instead of kissing her, he reached for her hand and they started down the block for the subway station. Outwardly she looked cool, calm and collected. Inwardly she felt like a giddy high-school girl on her first date.
Les was sweeping his front stoop and they waved as they strolled past. He had a great big smile on his face and Catherine suspected he was going to toss down his broom and run inside to tell Edna the news the moment she and Johnny disappeared around the corner. Maybe she didn’t look quite as cool and calm as she’d first thought.
The E train was noisy and crowded, and they amused themselves by reading the advertising placards that lined the walls of the car. “Lucky Strike Green Goes To War,” “Don’t be a public enemy! Be patriotic and smother sneezes with Kleenex to help keep colds from spreading to war workers,” and AT&T’s exhortation, “Joe needs long-distance lines tonight,” warning civilians to use the telephone only when absolutely necessary. Photos of beauty-queen contestants claimed a fair amount of wall space, and they took turns guessing who the winner of this month’s Miss Subways contest would be.
Every single day they rode this same train together, looked at the same advertisements without comment. Why did it all seem new today, new and wonderful and exciting?
They exited at Fifth Avenue and climbed the endless steps to street level where, to their amazement, they found flower vendors selling white gardenias and luscious purple orchids at “a special price just for you.”
Johnny purchased a white gardenia. He reached up and removed her peekaboo hat, then tucked the fragrant flower behind her ear. “Thank you,” she whispered, breathing deeply of the sweet smell. “It’s beautiful.”
He touched her cheek with the tip of his fingers. “So are you.”
They fell into an embarrassed—and delighted—silence and headed up Fifth Avenue. A few big yellow Checker cabs glided by, and huge double-decker buses rumbled past, but much of the traffic she remembered from pre-War years had disappeared thanks to gas rationing. Other than that it was easy to pretend there wasn’t a war going on, that this was the same graceful world that had existed before Pearl Harbor.
“Look at that beautiful dress,” she sighed as a tall brunette in ivory silk drifted by. “I’ll bet that cost thirty or forty dollars.”
Johnny did a double take. “Thirty dollars for a dress?” He shook his head. “Looks like I’ve been away longer than I thought.”
“She also had hose on,” Catherine said. “Just goes to show you that if you’re rich enough you can find anything you want.”
Johnny looked at her sharply. “You noticed all of that in two seconds?”
“You’d be surprised what a woman notices.” She was starved for fashion and feminine fripperies, more starved than even she had realized. “She was wearing a pearl choker, two circle pins, and the most cunning button earrings I’ve ever seen.”
Johnny stared at her in amazement. “What color were her eyes?”
“I don’t know, but her lipstick was Max Factor’s medium red.”
“She didn’t look any better than you, Cathy.” Catherine started to tell him he was crazy, that she couldn’t hold a candle to truly fashionable ladies, but she caught herself at the expression in his eyes. A warm feeling that had nothing to do with the balmy spring weather filled her heart. “Thank you,” she said instead.
They angled across the street and into Central Park. “Where to?” asked Johnny as they set off down the path. “The lake, the carousel, the zoo—”
“The zoo!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t been to the zoo in years!”
The zoo was exactly as she remembered it, small and delightful and filled with memories of her childhood. The balloon vendors, whose wares had been sacrificed to wartime production, weren’t around, but the peanut sellers still plied their treats along the pathways. Johnny bought two paper bags of the salted nuts, and Catherine stripped off her gloves and proceeded to feed the pigeons who flocked around them in obvious delight.
By the boating lake they sat together on a wrought-iron bench and watched the lovers in their rowboats and the little children whose paper and wood skiffs glided across the smooth water.
Johnny let go of her hand and her heart sank—until she realized he was about to drape his arm about her shoulders. She could feel his heat through the fabric of his suit. His fingers rested lightly across her shoulder, grazing her collarbone, tantalizing her with a thousand promises. She was aware of every breath he took, every movement of every muscle. Once she turned to watch a little girl run after her puppy and her breasts brushed against his side. The heat inside her body matched his own.
“Have you ever ridden the carousel?” he asked as a private nurse in her crisp white uniform and sleek navy blue cape walked by, pushing her tiny charge in an elegant English baby carriage.
“No,” she managed, acutely aware of the picture they made as they sat there. Lovers, she thought. People probably think we’re lovers....
He grinned at her and she felt the pressure on her shoulder increase. “Feel like horseback riding?”
She grinned back, heart soaring. “I’d love it!”
The carousel was back near the entrance at Sixtieth Street and they raced down the path. Catherine was gasping for breath when they reached the elaborate and beautiful merry-go-round with its painted ponies straight out of a fairy tale. Johnny bought two tickets and the moment the carousel came to a stop, they went to claim their steeds.
Catherine fell in love w
ith a glorious palomino with a mane of golden curls and eyes bluer than the April skies overhead. How to climb aboard her mount was the question of the moment, but Johnny came to her rescue. He put one hand on each side of her waist. She could feel the difference in strength on his right side, but he swept her up into the air and deposited her sidesaddle on her painted pony as if there was no problem at all.
He swung himself onto the horse next to her. The touch of his hands on her waist lingered, and she couldn’t keep from anticipating the moment when the carousel stopped and he would sweep her into his arms again and help her dismount. Round and round went the carousel as the giddiness inside her heart grew. How hard it was to tear her gaze away from him. His neatly combed hair was tousled now by the breeze; she could almost feel its silkiness against her cheek, smell the fragrance of the hair tonic he used. How commanding his profile was, with his cheekbones high and pronounced, his straight nose and strong proud chin.
The carousel slowed to a stop. Her horse halted at the highest position off the ground and she waited, her breath caught, as Johnny jumped from his own horse and came to fetch her. Her skirt rode up an extra inch and she felt the heat of Johnny’s gaze on her exposed flesh. His shoulder brushed her bare knees as he gripped her once again by the waist. The contact was intimate, as thrilling as it was unexpected. He swept her from the horse and held her, suspended, for a long and painfully sweet moment with his breath warm against her bare neck.
“We can ride again,” he said, his voice low for her alone.
“We could,” she said, her gaze lingering shamelessly on his mouth, the curve of his strong jaw.
“Or we could just stand here.” His words were a caress, lingering, seductive.
“I’d like that, too.”
She felt as if they were enclosed in a world of their own, a magical place that had never existed before that moment, a haven where—
“Hey! Whaddya doin’? Posin’ for animal crackers?” A woman’s Brooklynese voice shattered the spring air. “Either get on or get off. I got my eye on that horse.”
There was nothing to do but laugh. Johnny set Catherine firmly on the ground. She resumed normal breathing. But that moment, that magical wondrous moment, still lingered.
They cut across the grass, past the skating rink, then again followed the footpath back to the Fifty-ninth Street exit. The Plaza Hotel, looking for all the world like an enormous French château, set down in the middle of Manhattan, bustled with activity as fashionably dressed men and women nodded their way past the liveried doorman.
They headed down Fifth Avenue, where beautiful women in elegant day wear carried parcels neatly tied in bright red ribbons. Men in suits vied for sidewalk space with boys in uniform, who stumbled over their own shoes as they gazed at the sights that only New York had to offer.
Not that Catherine or Johnny noticed any of it. Something magical had happened back at the carousel—their friendship had made the final, inevitable turn into romance. The city fell away from them, becoming only a backdrop to the enchantment that held them both in its thrall.
Johnny felt as if he were walking on air. For almost two years he’d dreamed about a day like this, never believing Lady Luck would smile on him.
Well, not only had Lady Luck smiled on him, she’d handed him the keys to heaven in the bargain!
Catherine was smart, compassionate, headstrong—and probably the loveliest girl he’d ever known. And she didn’t seem to realize how beautiful she was. Heads turned as they strolled toward Times Square, and his chest swelled with pride as he saw the looks of envy on the faces of the guys they passed.
Funny thing, though. He used to think the best thing in the world was to have a beautiful girl on his arm, the kind of girl who caused a commotion everywhere she went. To his surprise, he’d discovered that while being with a beautiful girl was every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined, it was even better to be with a beautiful girl who had brains.
Who’d have thought it? War had changed him; that was a fact. He’d gone off a cocky hotshot with a failed marriage under his belt and a heckuva lot of bravado. He came home a cocky hotshot with a failed marriage under his belt and a different view of the way things were. He’d been put to the test and come out aces high. He’d never figured himself for the hero type, but when push came to shove, he’d found the courage and compassion to do the right thing. He’d paid a price—the partial paralysis of his arm was proof of that—but if he had it to do all over again, he’d save Tom Wilson’s life even if it meant losing his own.
Whaddya know? Johnny Danza, the orphan kid from Brooklyn, was a better man than he’d figured. A nice thing to find out on the afternoon of your twenty-sixth birthday.
He looked down at Catherine, at her honey-colored hair sparkling in the sunshine. A swell way to spend the afternoon of your twenty-sixth birthday, walking hand in hand with the girl you loved.
Not that he was ready to say those words yet. They kind of scared him. Each time he thought he was ready to give Cathy the letter he’d written from his hospital bed, his feet turned cold as ice and he stuffed it back into the drawer of the nightstand. He’d made one mistake when he was young and lonely, and he wasn’t about to make another one. Especially not if his mistake could hurt Catherine. That was the one thing he would never do.
Today, however, was nothing but blue skies and sunshine as they turned onto West Fifty-second Street. Fancy night spots that featured good food, good drink, and the best dance music in town lined both sides of the street. In a few hours the sounds of laughter and boogie woogie would spill from the windows and doors, bringing the entire neighborhood to life.
In his breast pocket were two tickets for Oklahoma!, burning a hole right through the fabric. He’d bought them a few weeks ago, meaning to ask Catherine to go with him. But the big war hero had trouble screwing up his nerve, and it wasn’t until this morning, in a do-or-die moment, that he’d finally asked her to spend the day with him. She still didn’t know about the tickets to the Broadway musical. He hoped she liked surprises.
* * *
Catherine loved surprises.
“We could see a movie,” she suggested after a turkey dinner at Toffenetti’s. “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is playing right around the corner.
“I have a better idea.”
Johnny slid the pair of tickets under her dessert plate, and when she saw the word Oklahoma! she almost swooned.
Thirty minutes later they made their way to the elegant old theater. “What wonderful seats,” Catherine said as they settled down in the eighth row center. “How did you ever manage them?”
Johnny grinned and ducked his head. “It’s not hard when you buy them two months ahead.”
“Two months? You bought these tickets two months ago?”
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a special occasion.” He met her eyes. “My birthday.”
“Oh, Johnny!” Before she had a chance to consider her actions, she leaned close to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. The slight scratch of stubble against her lips sent a thrill of excitement up her spine. The soft brush of her mouth against his cheek made Johnny’s head spin.
Finally the house lights dimmed and the theater went dark. Catherine held on to Johnny’s hand as the orchestra launched into the overture. In no time they were swept up in the story. The romance of the land. The colorful characters battling the odds. But most of all, the love story of Laurie and Curly.
It was the way he looked at her as if she were a gift from heaven. The way she appeared so delicate and lovely in his brawny arms. The way they tried so hard to pretend that what was happening wasn’t really happening at all. When Laurie and Curly sang “People Will Say We’re in Love,” the truth of their words pierced Catherine’s heart and she had to avert her head to keep Johnny from seeing her tears.
But he knew. He felt the truth of the song in his own heart and he gently stroked her hand. The hand that had once worn another man’s ring. There’s a chance for us now. Mayb
e this can be more than a dream....
They didn’t talk much on the way home. The meaningful lyrics still echoed in their heads, and they simply held hands and walked slowly down Hansen Street, happy to be together on such a beautiful night.
They went in the back door; the entrance to Johnny’s basement apartment was off the mudroom near the kitchen. The house was quiet and the room was dark. Catherine fumbled for the light switch, but Johnny covered her hand with his.
“Wait a minute,” he said, stepping close to her.
“I was going to make us some cof—”
“No.” He touched his forefinger to her lips. “Not now.”
His mouth covered hers, sweet and light as a springtime breeze. The pressure of his lips against hers was pleasurable, and she sighed as his hands slipped around her waist and held her close. She closed her eyes and placed her hands, palms flat, against his chest. The steady beating of his heart thudded against her fingers and she registered his heat.
She heard a creaking from the hallway, the squeak of footsteps on the stairs. “Johnny, I—”
He again touched her lips with the tip of his index finger.
He kissed her again, more deeply this time. He slid his tongue along the place where her upper lip met her lower one, then slipped it inside her willing mouth. She opened her eyes for an instant, almost as if she had to reassure herself that this was really and truly happening, that she wasn’t asleep in her bed and dreaming about what would never be. This is real, she thought, heart soaring. Johnny feels the same way I do!
The silky motion of his tongue against hers set off sparks in her, and it took every ounce of willpower at her command to break away.
“Someone’s coming,” she whispered, reaching for the light. Before she could flip the switch, he cupped her chin in his hand and whispered something low and tender. When she turned on the light, he was gone.
Chapter Twelve
As it turned out the interruption was a false alarm. Catherine stood motionless in the silent kitchen, aware only of the beating of her heart and the taste of Johnny on her lips.
Sentimental Journey (Home Front - Book #1) Page 18