Window on Yesterday

by Joan Hohl

  “No, Alycia, you don’t see at all,” he said tersely. “You only think you do.”

  The jagged edge on Sean’s soft tone jolted her out of the misery she was sinking into. Her body felt stiff, her emotions felt frozen. “Indeed?” Her voice was as frost-crusted as the side windows.

  “Dammit, Alycia, don’t freeze up on me without giving me a chance to explain!” he exploded, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel after wrenching the big car to a skidding stop at an intersection.

  His anger was a crackling, palpable force, pressing against her, demanding her attention. Her own anger flaring, Alycia tilted her chin defiantly as she turned to look at him. “The light has turned green,” she said with an icy composure that masked her inner turmoil.

  The last scarlet rays from the setting sun slanted through the windshield, casting Sean’s face in bronze and sparking blue fire from his eyes. The searing glance he sliced at her before setting the car in motion cut through Alycia like a laser.

  “You’re wrong, you know,” he said in a flat, controlled tone.

  “Wrong?” Alycia studied his beautifully delineated profile, hoping he was right, but very much afraid he wasn’t. “In what way?”

  “I did not plan to take you to my motel for dinner in hopes of coaxing you into my bed for dessert.” Steely conviction threaded his harsh tone. “Nor do I consider you an easy”—he halted abruptly, softening his tone before saying—”anything.”

  “Thank you.” Alycia’s voice wavered. “I—I was afraid that...” Her voice failed as tears stung her eyes. Blinking in an attempt to contain the flow, she turned away, only then noticing that they were approaching the most expensive and the largest of the motels that dotted the perimeter of the city. “We—we’re here.”

  “I know.” Sean was quiet until he’d brought the car to a stop near a high snowbank on the plowed, spacious parking lot. After engaging the brake he shifted around to face her. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  Alycia stared straight ahead, but softly said, “No.”

  “In that case, do you think you could force yourself to look at me?” The unspoken plea in his voice drew her gaze to his. His eyes were dark, dark blue with emotional intensity. “I won’t lie to you, Alycia. I want to make love with you. I’ve ached all day with wanting to make love with you.”

  “Sean!” Alycia gasped, more from the thrill of excitement that zinged through her than in protest of his statement.

  “I don’t know why you should feel either surprised or shocked.” His smile was wry with self-derision. “My desire for you was plainly evident last night.”

  His words evoked the memory of the taut readiness of his body straining against hers. The sudden warmth suffusing Alycia’s body had absolutely nothing to do with the car heater. The warmth intensified when Sean reached out to glide his fingertips down her cheek.

  “So pretty,” he murmured. “You are so breathtakingly pretty when you blush.” His hand drifted to her hair, fingers catching a silky strand absently as he lifted his head to gaze into her still-misty eyes. Alycia blinked. Sean groaned. “If the eyes are truly windows of the soul, you are even more beautiful inside than out.” A fresh surge of tears welled up in Alycia’s eyes, and she blinked again. “Don’t you dare cry,” Sean whispered, tugging on the dark strands between his fingers. “Alycia, I swear to you that I did not bring you here for anything other than dinner and conversation.”

  “But you just said ...” she began in a tone made thick by the emotion tightening her throat. Sean silenced her effectively by leaning forward to brush his lips tantalizingly back and forth over hers.

  “I know what I said, and I meant every word.” He smiled as he drew his head back with obvious reluctance. He inhaled deeply before repeating, “I do want to make love with you.” Sean shook his head impatiently. “No. ‘Want’ is too simple a word. It doesn’t express the way I feel. I’m not sure any single word can express the way I feel, which is no minor admission from a man who earns his living with words.” His expression revealed an unfamiliar sense of tumult. His brows slowly inched together in a frown. “Compulsion,” he said abruptly, startling Alycia. “This afternoon I felt compelled to call you. I feel a compelling urgency to be with you, joined to you, absorbed by you.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never felt this way before about any woman, but there you have it.” His fingers played with her hair; his smile played havoc with her heartbeat.

  Staring at him in stunned bemusement, Alycia felt an eerie sensation of inevitability permeate her being. She had a memory flash of the scene at the table that morning, and heard an echo of her own voice faltering as she tried to explain her unusual response to Sean.

  I wanted, needed, to absorb him, become a part of him.

  A shiver rippled down her spine. In defining his own confusing feelings, Sean had summed hers up as well. The sensation was not a comfortable one. Alycia didn’t, couldn’t, understand this bewildering compulsion, but she couldn’t deny it, either. It was almost scary. Her eyes betrayed her inner upheaval.

  “Oh, darling, don’t look like that,” Sean pleaded, releasing her hair to cup her face within the warmth of his broad palm. Obviously distracted and unaware of his use of the endearment, he misread her responsive quiver and jerked his hand back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I give you my word: I did not bring you here with the intention of either luring or fast-talking you into my bed. I want you there, I admit that. Hell”—he laughed harshly—”I want you anywhere. But I want you willing, as desperate for me as I am for you.” Moving slowly, as if not to startle her, he backed away, wedging his body between the door and the steering wheel. “I promise you,” he said solemnly, “I won’t apply any pressure, either overt or subtle.” As he finished speaking, Sean held out his hand with an engaging hesitancy that caused an emotional pang in her chest. “Will you have dinner with me, Alycia?” he said. “Please?”

  Alycia’s disappointment and resistance dissolved. Though soft, her reply was immediate and unqualified.

  “Yes.”

  The motel dining room was packed. They were ushered to a table for two at the far side of the room next to a large window.

  “I’m glad I had the sense to reserve a table before leaving here to pick you up,” Sean murmured after they were seated in the intimate corner. He swept a casual glance around the room. “The snowstorm certainly hasn’t hurt business here.”

  “Did you reserve this particular table?”

  “Yes.” Sean smiled. “Why?”

  “It’s nice.” Alycia’s gaze drifted to the window and the black and white scene of snow-covered ground beneath a stand of snow-laden trees beyond the frost-rimmed pane.

  “You’re nice.”

  Alycia’s hair swirled to one side as she swung to look at him. “Why, thank you!” Her voice held a note of surprise, her eyes glowed with pleasure. “You’re nice, too.”

  “And the restaurant is nice.”

  “Yes.” The surprise in her voice changed to laughter.

  “And the view’s nice.”

  “Yes.” Alycia laughed openly.

  “And I’m talking like an idiot.”

  “No!” She set her hair swirling again with a sharp shake of her head. “Never an idiot.” Impulsively reaching across the table, she grasped his hand. “You were deliberately teasing me to ease any leftover strain, weren’t you?” A responsive thrill shot up her arm when he turned his hand and curled his fingers around hers.

  Sean’s smile was slow and devastating. “Yes.” He shrugged. “I was afraid you were feeling awkward about what I said in the car.”

  Alycia felt the effects of his smile in every one of her pulse points. “I was, just a little,” she admitted, absently lacing her fingers with his and thrilling to the erotic sensation of her skin sliding against his.

  “And now?” Sean asked, brushing his fingertips over the back of her hand.

  “And now I feel comfortably relaxed and ready for dinner.” Alycia
shivered in response to his stroking fingers.

  “And the conversation you promised me,” she added in a soft, breathless tone.

  “It’s yours.” Sean motioned to a hovering waiter.

  * * * *

  Though their dinner was delicious, the conversation was the real meat of their meal. They tested the water during the appetizers.

  “You’ve... ah, never been married?” Alycia probed delicately in between sips of her soup.

  Sean shook his head and popped another of his oysters Rockefeller into his mouth. “How long did your marriage last?” he asked, after devouring the morsel with undisguised relish.

  “Two whole years,” Alycia answered tautly.

  “Oh.” Though he gazed at her intently, Sean let the subject drop and concentrated on his oysters.

  The conversation deepened during the entree.

  “What happened to your marriage?” Sean inquired too blandly as he pried the succulent white meat from one half of a large lobster tail.

  “It ended.” Alycia shrugged, and broke a piece off the end of her poached salmon.

  “I deduced that all by myself,” Sean said dryly, spooning sour cream onto his baked potato. “Why did it end?” He gave her a piercing look. “What went wrong?”

  “Everything.” Alycia sprinkled salt on her parsley potatoes and carefully chose a clarifying explanation. “We were both much too young for the responsibility of marriage,” she went on when he continued to stare at her.

  “Can you talk about it?” Sean casually poked his fork into his salad. “I mean, does it still hurt you to talk about it?”

  Alycia smiled, and finished chewing a bite of tomato. “No, it doesn’t hurt me to talk about it. What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” Sean coolly dipped sweet lobster meat into hot cocktail sauce.

  To her amazement, Alycia found that once she started talking she couldn’t stop. Beginning slowly, hesitantly, she related the sorry circumstances of her marriage. Except for the murmured observation or comment, Sean was quiet throughout her narrative. When she had finished, Alycia sat back, stunned by the realization that she had consumed every morsel of her food but hadn’t really tasted any of it.

  “Did you enjoy your meal?” Sean’s eyes gleamed with inner amusement.

  Alycia smiled vaguely and shrugged. “I suppose I must have.” She glanced at her empty plate. “But I’m not sure.”

  Sean treated her to his slow, devastating smile once more. “I think perhaps you were too caught up in pouring out to notice what you were taking in.”

  “Perhaps,” she conceded, returning his smite.

  “You’re not accustomed to talking about your private life, are you?”

  Touched by the tenderness and compassion in his tone, and the understanding shadowing his eyes, Alycia shook her head and averted her face by glancing out the window. “I”—she paused to clear her throat of a sudden tightness— “I...” Her voice failed as warm moisture clouded her vision, blurring the scene of snow-laden fir tree branches.

  “Talking about it gives you a feeling of exposure, right?” Sean murmured, filling the moment of silence.

  “Yes.” Alycia swallowed again. “I was as much at fault as he,” she said softly. “I realize that now, but even after all this time, talking about it makes me feel”—she turned to look at him—”like such a failure.”

  Sean stared at her for several seconds; then he sighed. “And you’ve been unable to trust a man, or yourself, ever since.” His tone lacked the inflection necessary to make it a question or a statement.

  Knowing full well that his blandly voiced observation was based on her incoherent remarks of the night before, Alycia didn’t attempt to dissemble. Squaring her shoulders, she gazed directly into his eyes. “Yes. I—ah, haven’t been with a man since, if you know what I mean?” She frowned as his lips began to twitch.

  “Oh, I know exactly what you mean.” The twitch intensified. “And what it means for me is that not only am I chauvinistically thrilled to know there has been no one else, but I have my work cut out for me.” The twitch finally lost to a teasing grin. “Haven’t I?”

  “Sean, you gave me your word,” she said warningly, yet secretly pleased by his underlying note of possessiveness.

  “And I’ll keep it.” His voice was hard with conviction. “But I fully intend to earn your trust, and I hope to teach you to trust yourself as well.”

  Whether Sean realized it or not, he had given her an opening. Alycia didn’t hesitate in taking it. “Is it because of a lack of trust in women that you’ve never married?”‘

  His wry expression told her he understood and appreciated the swiftness with which she had turned the conversational table on him. “Partly,” Sean admitted.

  “Because of your mother’s defection?”

  Cradling his coffee cup in his palms, Sean leaned back in his chair and lifted the cup in silent salute. “Very astute,” he said softly. “But only partly correct.”

  Alycia returned the salute with her cup. “Only partly?”

  “Hmm.” Sean sipped his coffee. “My father adored my mother. Her leaving devastated him. He never fully recovered. Having witnessed the effects of one woman’s rejection on the person I loved most in the world, I grew up hating her and distrusting all females.”

  “But—”

  “But I’m fully grown now,” he went on as if she hadn’t tried to protest. “I have been for some time.” His voice took on a chiding note. “And I’m a student of history. I do understand that trustworthiness is not exclusive to the male of the species.”

  “Then why—” Alycia began, only to be interrupted once more.

  “Up to this point, I simply haven’t met any woman I felt I couldn’t live without.”

  The “up to this point” part of his statement sent a shiver down Alycia’s spine. Still, she needed clarification on the remainder of his remark. “You do mean figuratively couldn’t live without, don’t you?” A strange sensation washed over her when he shook his head.

  “I mean literally couldn’t live without,” Sean said flatly.

  Something tapped at the outermost edges of Alycia’s mind, as if trying to break into her conscious thoughts, some long-ago, long-forgotten memory. She went still, concentrating, mentally reaching out to capture the elusive glimmer, but it was gone, leaving her with an eerie feeling of emptiness and yearning. Made uneasy by the odd feeling, she gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not quite sure I understand.”

  “And I’m quite positive you do.” Sean was watching her, noting every nuance of expression that flicked over her lovely face.

  And she did—although she didn’t particularly want to, because Alycia had convinced herself that the kind of do-or-die, love-ever-after love that Sean was referring to simply did not exist. Nervous, uncomfortable, she was unaware of her fingers twisting the gold chain around her wrist. She started when Sean’s hand covered hers, stilling her agitated action.

  “Don’t let it throw you,” he said gently.

  Alycia tried to smile. “I—I...” Her shoulders moved in an I-give-up shrug. “I find it hard to believe that a man of your obvious intelligence ...” She shrugged again as her voice faltered.

  “That a man of my intelligence would hold out for the real thing?” Sean prompted.

  “Yes.” Alycia sighed. “I have a problem with ‘the real thing.’“ Her soft lips curved into a cynical smile. “To be honest, I have a problem with the word ‘love.’“

  Sean’s long fingers circled her wrist, chaining her more effectively than the delicate gold links. “And an even bigger problem with the concept of love at first sight?” he suggested softly.

  Alycia shuddered. “I thought it was love at first sight when ...” Her lips tightened in reaction to the old memory that retained the power to hurt and humiliate. “It wasn’t love at all.”

  “And whatever it was made you wary and afraid to trust.” Holding her gaze with his shadowed blue eyes, Sean s
lid his fingers under the loose-fitting chain, binding them together in a way that was both frightening and exhilarating to Alycia.

  Unable at that instant to speak, barely able to breathe, Alycia nodded.

  Sean nodded also, but his head movement conveyed firm determination, not uncertainty. His fingertips stroked the sensitive skin over her hammering pulse. A tender smile curved his lips. “I guess I’ll have to teach you the reality of trust and love” he murmured. “I have no choice, for you see, my darling, I’m very much afraid that you are the one woman I cannot live without”

  * * * *

  Alycia was still in a state of bemused shock a half-hour later. Shaken, stunned, while at the same time excited by Sean’s unexpected declaration, she had responded like a sleepwalker when he led her from the dining room to the cocktail lounge.

  The dimly lit room was crowded, but Alycia hadn’t noticed. Distracted and confused, all she was aware of was Sean’s tall body beside her, his guiding hand at her spine, and the echo of his voice bouncing off the walls of her mind.

  She had sat down automatically when he pulled a chair away from a tiny candlelit table. Her nostrils flared delicately as she caught the combined scents of candle wax and open-grill-steak. She had risen without demur when Sean got up to stand by her chair, hand extended, when the pianist caressed the keys into a romantic ballad and sang the words of love in a low seductive voice. They had remained on the small dance floor since then.