Passion's Promise
Page 39
It was a pleasant flight, and New York was hot and muggy and beautiful and throbbing when she arrived. Hilary was wrong. It was exciting even in August. Maybe no one who mattered was there, but everyone else was. The city was alive.
There were no photographers to greet her, nothing, no one, only New York. And that was enough. She had so much to do. It was late Friday night. She had to go home and unpack, wash her hair, and first thing the next morning, she would take the subway to Harlem. First thing. She had flown home from Spain for her book, but to see Alejandro too. It was time now. For her anyway. She had planned it for a long time. And she was ready. For him. For herself. He was part of her past, but not the part she had put away. He was the part she had saved for the present.
And the present looked and felt splendid. She was unfettered now, unbound and happy and free. She tingled with the excitement of all that lay ahead … people, places, things to do, books to write, her old conquered world at her feet, and now new worlds to conquer. Above all, she had conquered herself. She had it all now. What was there to fear? Nothing, and that was the beauty of what she had found. No one owned her anymore, not a life-style, not a man, no one. Kezia owned Kezia, for good.
The days with Luke had been treasured and rare, but a new dawn had come … a silver and blue morning filled with light. And there was room for Alejandro in her new day, if he was around, and if not, she would ride laughing and proud into noon.
To Beatrix with all my love, D.S.
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Lines from “Getting There” by Sylvia Plath are reprinted from ARIEL (1965) by Sylvia Plath. Copyright © 1963 by Ted Hughes. Reprinted by permission of Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., Faber & Faber, London, and Olwyn Hughes.
Copyright © 1976 by Danielle Steel
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eISBN: 978-0-307-56674-4
July 1989
v3.0