From the Heart

by Nora Roberts

  In moments the kitchen was noisy with the popping of the corn. Alison sat at the butcher block table, ankles crossed, carefully cutting lengths of string. Jordan settled across from her and watched. When was the last time he had sat listening to that sound? he wondered. In college? No, at his brother’s house, five, perhaps six, years ago. Perhaps Kasey had been right. He had insulated himself.

  “Another masterpiece,” Kasey declared, turning the popcorn into a bowl. “No duds.”

  He dipped his hand into the bowl. “Where’s the butter?” he demanded. Alison’s hand brushed his as she dug in.

  “Grab a needle,” Kasey instructed each of them.

  They worked in anything but silence. Alison chattered continually between mouthfuls. Her string of popcorn grew longer by the minute. It seemed to Kasey that they had sat like this before on other Christmas Eves, that they would sit like this again. But she knew better and shivered.

  “Cold?” Jordan asked her.

  “No.” She tried to shake off the feeling. “A goat ran over my grave.”

  “That’s a goose,” he said and smiled at her.

  “Goose, goat.” She shrugged. She stuffed a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You’re not doing so well there, Jordan,” she observed.

  “I need incentive.”

  “Mine’s going to be the longest,” Alison declared. “It’s going to be a hundred miles long.”

  “Don’t count your chickens before they cross the road,” Kasey advised. “How do you do that, Jordan?” she asked, studying him. “Did it come naturally, or did you practice?”

  Jordan shook his head in amused confusion.

  “I mean lift one eyebrow,” Kasey explained. “It’s marvelous. I’d love to be able to do it, but both of mine work at the same time. Let’s have some hot chocolate.” She sprang up and began to rummage through cupboards. Jordan abandoned his string and watched her.

  “Kasey, come here a minute.”

  “Jordan, preparing hot chocolate requires concentration and care.” She measured in the milk. Crossing the room, he took her arm and pulled her under the doorway. He pointed above their heads with one finger. Kasey smiled at the mistletoe. “Is it real?” she asked.

  “It’s real,” he assured her.

  “Well, in that case . . .” She touched her mouth lightly to his.

  “That’s not how they kiss in the movies,” Alison commented and plucked another piece of popcorn.

  “Absolutely right,” Jordan agreed before Kasey could comment. He drew her back into his arms and covered her mouth with his. The kiss lengthened, and the sweetness of it made Kasey’s throat ache. She held him close. She would remember that kiss before all the others, she knew.

  “That was much better,” Alison stated when Kasey drew away. “My string’s finished.”

  Later they sat in the drawing room again. Alison was curled next to Jordan on the sofa with Kasey’s guitar in her lap. Kasey watched the colors from the lights on the tree play across her face as she drifted into sleep.

  “She’s had a long day,” Kasey murmured.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing her face when she gets her presents tomorrow.” He slipped the guitar from Alison’s limp arms and handed it to Kasey. “Your little gift is safely tucked away?”

  “Charles is guarding my little gift in the garage. I’m not sure he’s going to part with it easily.” She rose. “I’ll take Alison up and put her to bed.”

  “I’ll do it.” Jordan shifted his niece into his arms and stood. “Why don’t you put some music on?”

  When he had gone, Kasey went to the cabinet that held the stereo. Chopin, she decided, shifting through the albums. It was a night for romance.

  The house was quiet. The servants were settled in their wing. Beatrice was at a party. It might have been only the three of them in the house. Kasey sighed as she slipped the record onto the turntable. For tonight she could pretend it was true. Wandering to the window, she parted the curtains and looked out. The moon was high and full, the night clear. She found Pegasus again and mused over it. When she heard the doors shut quietly, she turned. Kasey watched Jordan lock them.

  “Did you settle her in all right?” Her heart began to skip rapidly. Silly, she thought. I act as though it’s the first time I’ve been with him.

  “She’s fine. She never even woke up. You sleep like that.” He crossed the room and set the bottle of wine he carried on the bar. “Deep, like a child.” He opened the wine, then moved to the fireplace. Kneeling, he set gas flames burning over the logs. “Now you can pretend it’s snowing.” He smiled up at her.

  “You do see through me, don’t you?”

  “At times.” When he had poured two glasses, he moved back in front of the fire and sat. He held up a hand for her. Kasey took it and settled next to him. “How do you feel?” he asked when she was leaning against him.

  “Like I’m snowed in,” she murmured, accepting the wine he offered. “Snuggled in a log cabin in the Adirondacks, away from the world and its problems.”

  “Is there room in the log cabin for me?”

  She tilted her head to smile at him. “Anytime.”

  “We’d have wood,” he said quietly and he took the glass from her hand. “And wine.” He bent to kiss the corner of her mouth. “And each other.” Gently he lowered her to the floor. “We wouldn’t need anything else.”

  “No.” Kasey’s lids lowered as she drew him closer. “Nothing else.”

  She lost herself in the feel of him, in the taste of him. Her mind and body were in complete harmony, and both belonged to him. From somewhere deep in the center of the house, the clock struck midnight, and it was Christmas.

  How long they loved each other that night Kasey would never know. Neither of them had wanted to unlock the door and open themselves to the rest of the world. Once, when they dozed together, Jordan woke to hear the front door open and close behind his mother. Then the house was silent again. Theirs. He turned to Kasey and roused her slowly until she was quivering for him again and he for her. There was firelight and the colors from the tree and the scent of pine. The wine grew warm.

  Kasey slept again and woke groggily when Jordan lifted her.

  “I’ll take you up,” he murmured.

  “I don’t want to leave you.” She buried her face in his neck. “The nights are too short. Hours and hours too short.”

  Then she was asleep again, as deeply as Alison had been when he had carried her up the stairs.

  Morning came all too soon. Only her own determination and Alison’s excitement kept Kasey from crawling back under the covers. The neat, formal drawing room was soon strewn with torn paper, boxes and discarded ribbons. A cocker spaniel puppy, Kasey’s gift to Alison, raced around the tree while Alison sat, awestruck, with a new guitar, a gift from her uncle, on her lap.

  “Shouldn’t you wake your mother, Jordan?” Kasey murmured, pushing some crumpled paper aside.

  “At six o’clock in the morning?” He laughed and shook his head. “Mother doesn’t rise before ten, Christmas or no Christmas. We’ll have a very civilized brunch later.”

  Kasey wrinkled her nose and grabbed for a box. “It’s about time I had one,” she announced, knowing the gift was from Alison. “I’ve heard a lot of whispering about this one,” she said, unwinding the ribbon slowly. “Seen a lot of telling looks.” Alison caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked at Jordan. “Like that one,” Kasey stated and ripped the paper with a flourish. Opening the box, she found a long, pale green neck scarf in soft wool.

  “It’s the first present I ever made,” Alison said anxiously. “Rose the kitchen maid taught me. I made some mistakes.”

  Kasey tried to raise her eyes, tried to speak, but could do neither. She stroked the awkwardly crocheted scarf with her fingers.

  “Do you like it?”

  Kasey looked up and nodded helplessly. Her eyes were already brimming over.

  “Women,” Jordan said, tucking Alison’s ha
ir behind her ear. “Some women,” he corrected, “tend to weep when they’re particularly happy. Kasey’s one of them.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” Kasey managed and took a deep breath. “Alison, it’s the most beautiful present I’ve ever had.” She gathered the girl into her arms and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  “She really likes it,” Alison said, grinning at Jordan over Kasey’s shoulder. “Do you think she’ll cry if you give her yours?”

  “Why don’t we find out?” Jordan reached under the tree for a small, square box. “Of course, maybe she’s not interested in any more presents.”

  “Of course I am.” Kasey drew out of Alison’s arms. “I’m very greedy on Christmas.” She took the box from him and drew a deep breath. Opening it, she felt her heart lurch for the second time that morning.

  She held the gold, finely etched drop earrings, remarkably similar to those she had seen the day she had bought his unicorn. She looked up at him and shook her head. “Jordan, how did you remember something like this?”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything you’ve told me. I thought this went with it.” He handed her another box, this one long and flat, then smiled as she hesitated. “I thought you were greedy on Christmas.”

  Kasey opened the box and found three thin gold chains ingeniously twisted together to form one. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

  He took the chain from her fingers and clasped it around her neck.

  Kasey swallowed, then laid her cheek against his. “Thank you, Jordan.” She scrambled up. “I’m going to see about some coffee.”

  “She liked yours, too,” Alison told him and shifted her guitar. “She was crying again.”

  When Millicent brought coffee and croissants into the drawing room fifteen minutes later, she stood balancing the tray and stared. In all her years in the Taylor household she’d never seen anything like it. Papers and ribbons and boxes were everywhere. And Mr. Taylor was wrestling with a puppy in the middle of it all. Mr. Taylor! Miss Alison and Miss Wyatt were giggling. No, she’d never seen anything like it, not in this house.

  13

  Kasey intended to keep herself very busy when she left Palm Springs. First she was going home. She had made her decision; New Year’s Eve would mark her last full day with Jordan. All she had left to do was tell Jordan. After looking at it from every angle—from hers, from his, from Alison’s—Kasey had decided to wait until the first of the year. Her flight was booked. It would hurt less if the hours between weren’t heavy with the knowledge that they were the last ones. She’d cram everything she could into that final twenty-four hours.

  “I’d have had you in the third game of the second set if I hadn’t double-faulted.” She swung her racket at the air as she and Jordan walked from the tennis court. “And if you hadn’t served to my backhand in the fourth game of the second set, I would have won that one, too. You really are a vicious player, coming into the net like that.”

  He took her racket, a bit leery of the enthusiasm she showed in swinging it. “Look, there’s Alison by the pool. She appears to be dutifully doing her homework.”

  Alison glanced up as they approached, waved, then settled back with a sigh. “Uncle Jordan, I don’t know what to do about this assignment.”

  “No?” He set the rackets down on the umbrellaed table. “What is it?”

  “I have to list five items typical of the nineteen-eighties. Something I’d put into a time capsule to show future societies what our culture was like.”

  “Alison.” He grinned and ran a finger down her nose. “Why ask a writer when you have an anthropologist?”

  “Oh, I forgot.” She looked up at Kasey. “What would you put in a time capsule?”

  “Let’s see.” Kasey narrowed her eyes against the sun a moment. “A stalk of wheat, a container of petroleum, an MOS chip, a cassette of punk rock music and a pair of Gucci loafers.”

  Jordan laughed. “And that’s your encapsulization of the eighties?”

  Alison frowned as she scribbled. “What’s an MOS chip?”

  “It’s a—”

  “Oh, no.” Jordan stopped Kasey’s explanation cold. “Don’t get her started, Alison.”

  “Well,” Alison said, frowning at the list doubtfully, “I suppose I’d better think about this some more.” She gave Kasey a look that told her she’d been little help, then left to work out her problem indoors.

  “I’m not sure that Alison or her teacher is ready for your opinion on our society,” Jordan commented.

  “It was my educated analysis of our culture as it stands today, from technology to fashion. You know, Jordan, you really look hot after that tennis match. You should cool off.”

  She gave him a firm shove and sent him backwards into the pool. He surfaced, pushing his hair from his eyes. “Impulse,” she claimed and grabbed her middle as she laughed. “I’ve never had a firm control over impulses.” Saying nothing, he narrowed his eyes and swam to the edge. “Sorry, Jordan, but you really did look hot. I’m sure the water’s wonderful. You’re not mad, are you? I’ll help you out.”

  She’d no more than offered her hand when she realized her mistake. He took it firmly, then grinned at her as he gave it a quick tug and sent her headlong into the water. She came up sputtering.

  “I had that coming, I suppose.”

  “So you did. How’s the water?”

  “Terrific.” She treaded water with one hand and pulled off a sneaker with the other. “I’ve always thought”—she tossed the sneaker over his head and out of the pool—“that when you find yourself in an inevitable situation, you should make the most of it.” She lofted her other shoe, then, doing a surface dive, streaked along the bottom.

  She jerked when Jordan’s hands took her waist. He turned her, and she found herself tangled with him in an underwater kiss. Her heartbeat jumped from normal to frantic, and she clung to him. When she surfaced, her pulse was still soaring.

  “I was making the most of an inevitable situation,” Jordan murmured and caught the lobe of her ear in his teeth.

  “You scared me.” She took a deep breath. “I should never have seen that shark movie.”

  “We don’t stock sharks in the winter.” He ran a hand through her hair. “It’s nearly copper when it’s wet and the sun hits it. The first day you were here I stood at my window and watched you swim. I couldn’t get you out of my mind even then.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. It was so difficult to be strong when he was gentle. She wanted to tell him again that she loved him, that it was breaking her heart to have to leave him. She didn’t know, even then, what she would do if he asked her to stay. Or perhaps she did, and that was why she had made her plans without telling him. They couldn’t go on as they were, and she saw no future for them. If he could love her . . . . But Kasey shook her head and drew away from him.

  “I’ll race you,” she challenged. “I’m a much better swimmer than tennis player.”

  He smiled. “All right, I’ll give you a head start.”

  Kasey lifted her brows. “That is an assumption of male superiority.” She pushed her hair from her eyes. “I’ll take it.”

  She was off like a rocket in a flurry of water. Even with her advantage, Jordan reached the far edge two strokes ahead of her. Kasey wrinkled her nose at him. “Of course,” she began and stood in the shallow water, “if I’d grown up in a pool . . .”

  She noted that he was paying no attention to her words. Following his eyes, she glanced down.

  The T-shirt she had worn modestly enough on the tennis court now clung to her breasts. Rather than a cover, it was an erotic invitation. Her brief shorts were molded wetly to her hips and upper thighs. Naked, she would have been less of a temptation. Water ran slowly down the sleekness of her hair.

  “I think this sort of swimming apparel belongs in deeper water,” Kasey decided and pushed away from the edge.

  She was in his arms before she was halfway across the pool. His mouth to
ok hers, hungry, quickly desperate. They lowered below the surface again, tied to each other. Kasey hung on as a mixture of fear and passion ran through her. There were sensations of weightlessness, of claustrophobia, of helplessness. She might have fought against them, but the will had slipped from her, and she held him tighter. He brought them up, and air rushed into her lungs.

  “You’re trembling,” he noticed abruptly. “Did I frighten you?”

  “I don’t know.” She held on and let him keep them above surface. “Oh, Jordan, I want you,” she breathed. The need was unexpectedly urgent and powerful.

  His mouth found hers again. His excitement was doubled by the desire he felt pouring out of her. “How long can you hold your breath?” he murmured.

  “Not long enough.” She gave a shaky laugh and searched for his lips again. “Not nearly long enough. Will we drown?”

  “Probably.” His hand ran down her side, to her hip, to her thigh and back to her waist. “Do you care?”

  “Not at the moment. Just kiss me again. Just kiss me and don’t say anything.”

  She couldn’t bear it. By that time the next day she would be on a plane. She wouldn’t be able to reach out and touch him, to feel his hands on her. She would have the taste of him only in memory. These three months out of her life would be swallowed up by whatever was to come. How could she leave? How could she stay? Already the price she was going to have to pay seemed overwhelmingly high. Then she’d take something else for the bargain, she thought. One last night. One full, last night.

  “Jordan, let’s not go to that party tonight.” She drew away from him, wanting to see his face. “I need to be alone with you, the way we were in New York. Can’t we go someplace, just for tonight? Tomorrow’s a whole new year. I want to spend the last night of this one with you. Just you.”

  “A suite at the Hyatt?” he murmured. “Champagne and caviar? I seem to recall you’re rather fond of caviar.”

  “Yes.” Her grip around his neck was quick and desperate as she brought her cheek to his. “Or pizza and beer at the Last Chance Motel. It doesn’t matter. I love you.” She couldn’t stop herself from saying it. “I love you so much.” Her mouth fastened on his before he could speak.