Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  “Sable, Lorna knew she could talk to me, she knew this!” His voice cracking from the emotions he was trying to hide.

  “No Nick, she didn’t know.” Nick was about to adamantly object when Sable jumped to her feet. Walking toward him, like an angry bear protecting her cub, she jammed a manicured finger sharply into his chest, causing him to take a step backward. His eyes widened with shock. “No,” saying quietly with deadly finality, “…you listen.”

  Tears still streaming down her cheeks, like flowing rivers of water, “you’ve carried the pains of your past around for so long you wear it like a shirt,” she said, jamming him again with her finger. “Anything…anything and everything Lorna did,” pausing from the incredulously of it, “you questioned!”

  Nick did not deny it. He could not. Sable continued, the unfairness of him fueling her. “She wanted to tell you,” she sneered, “but Nick…She….Was…Afraid!”

  Nick’s back was against the wall. Sable stood before him, glaring into his eyes, furious. Trying not to hate him. Wanting to hit him.

  Whatever control Nick had on his emotion, broke like shattered glass. “I would have understood!” Throwing both hands in the air, “I would have understood!” He was yelling now, all composure gone. “She didn’t have to do this to me!” Stepping away from Sable, he paced from the window to the bed, then back to the window again, ensuring not to look at Lorna or Sable.

  “Do this to you?” She asked incredibly. “Why you…” saying quietly, Sable walked across the room. Standing behind Nick,who had his back turned to her, Sable remembered her father’s warning. Grabbing Nick by the arm, she turned him to face her.

  She wanted to call him the selfish, self-centered jerk she knew him to be, but she did not. That would be too easy for him; she saw that now. As calmly as she could, though the anger in her eyes told him how she really felt, Sable recounted all Lorna told her about her horrifying childhood. Her past. Nick was stunned; he had no idea.

  By the time Sable had finished, Nick knew about Lorna’s childhood and the abuse. Her mother, who did nothing except to blame her. Leaving home. The pregnancy. Having her child sold, on the day of its birth, while she was asleep. Lorna was heavily drugged. She did not know whether she had a boy, or a girl.

  Sable told Nick all Lorna told her about living on the streets. Her fears. Her disappointments and sense of hopelessness. Lorna had many. Nick was taken aback, and felt sick to his stomach. He glanced at Lorna lying in the bed, battered and bruised.

  Realizing for the first time since they had met that Lorna had always been there for him. Listening to him. Supporting him. When he was finished whining about his past, and or current situations, it was then and only then that he would inquire about her.

  He was selfish…maybe, he thought, he would have to think on that later. He had not been there for her, not all the time perhaps; he would think on that too later, not now, he had much to consider.

  The only reason he knew Harry was her father is because one night he was looking for a pen, looked in a drawer and saw a picture of a couple. Lorna said that it was her parents and a sad look covered her face, but he never asked her about them. He simply placed the photo back into the drawer, continuing with what he was doing.

  When he briefly thought about it, he never asked her about herself, her childhood, her hopes or dreams…as she did with him…often. As he allowed his thoughts to ponder on their relationship, he could not remember ever showing any interest in Lorna as a person. He only used her for his needs, and not once did she complain.

  She was there when he needed someone to talk to, ask advice, to listen. Lorna always listened, sometimes for hours on end, and she never complained. She always made him feel special by giving little surprises, which now that he thought about it, he took for granted. Maybe…he’d think on that later as well.

  As he continued looking at her lying in the hospital bed, he remembered the last time that they saw one another. Lorna had asked Nick to come to her office; he wasn’t busy and really didn’t want to go, but she had pleaded. When he got there, she had a picnic lunch spread on the floor, complete with flowers, wine, cheese and tickets to the Knicks game.

  He was delighted for the tickets because he wanted to see the game, but he never asked her where she got them; the game was sold out. Nick realized with regretful clarity that he had been a selfish, self-centered, egotistic jerk. But wasn’t he allowed, considering all he’d been through?

  Shaking his head, while he continued gazing at her, he hoped that Lorna would forgive him. He didn’t want to lose her…he didn’t…he wouldn’t, at least not until he was ready. No one leaves him, ever. Besides, she had some explaining to do about those photos in that magazine; his thoughts darkened, while his fists clenched so tightly the veins in his hands became visible.

  His eyes glazed over as they looked at her battered face. “You have some explaining to do,” he said eerily soft, while caressing her hair.

  Chapter 19

  Leaving the hospital in a state of shock and disbelief, Sable got into her car, and drove around town in an unseeing haze. Turbulent thoughts running rampant in her mind, made her hands grip the steering wheel until her fingers began to hurt; as her trembling leg tried to control the feet, that kept switching from the gas pedal to brakes, causing the car to jerk suddenly with each movement.

  Finally, pulling over to the side of the road to compose herself, she allowed the rampant thoughts to run their course. And then from exhaustion, her head fell against the steering wheel, with a silent thump. The tears would not stop. Lorna did not look good. The situation with Nick, could explode into more traumas for Lorna. Sable felt it like a knife.

  Running her fingers through her hair, she felt helpfulness not being able to help Lorna. Frustration made her start the car again. Pulling into traffic, she drove slower than traffic allowed, causing other drivers to angrily honk their horns.

  Momentarily closing her eyes at a traffic light, she felt the tears falling down her cheeks. With eyes full of blinding tears, clouding her vision, she turned into a quiet neighborhood. She had no destination in mind.

  Still thinking of Lorna’s horrifying childhood, feeling the need to vomit the vile taste of life’s injustice into her lap, her knuckles held a death grip on the steering wheel,as if doing so would keep her emotions from spiraling completely out of control.

  She thought of how Nick looked as she was leaving Lorna’s hospital room. She knew Nick would not leave Lorna’s side. He said he’s in love with her. But Sable wasn’t convinced of this. Nick was too selfish to love…too darn selfish. She knew Lorna, unfortunately, loved Nick.

  Hopefully, they could get past this and find some peace, she thought, but doubted it. There was a dark side to Nick, which frightened her. Lorna’s beliefs that she could love it away, frightened her even more.

  Sable tried to call her father to inform him of what had happened. Lorna was an employee at Van Cleef Enterprises. Sable knew Lorna modeled part-time for extra cash, but not for Mon Pubis. Her father needed to know, and she wanted him to hear it from her first.

  His line was busy, so she dialed Stephen’s office. Barbara told her Stephen was working from his home, and all his calls were being transferred there per his instructions. When Stephen answered the phone, Sable said nothing at first. All she could think, was how sexy he sounded over the phone.

  “Hello?” He was looking at a report and didn’t like what he saw. Irritation fueled his voice. “Hello…” he said again impatiently, believing it was another telemarketer, making a mental note to change his phone number.

  “Stephen? This is Sab…uh Ms. Van Cleef.” All of a sudden, she didn’t know how to identify herself to him.

  Softly. “I know,” he said, recognizing her voice the minute she spoke his name. He would know her in a crowded dark room. He also knew that something was wrong; he could hear it in her voice.

  He sounded so good, she thought. Holding the phone to her ear, just breathing
. She liked that he recognized her voice when she called his name. She wanted to cry. She hated crying.

  He waited silently. Patiently. As much as he liked the sound of his name on her lips, protective instincts for her well-being were firmly established. Especially after their last encounter. He was as still as granite, waiting for her to tell him what, if anything, was wrong. Neither said anything for several seconds.

  Finally, Sable, feeling more vulnerable and uncertain as she had never felt in her life, sounded like a teenage girl when she spoke. “I’m sorry to disturb you at home.” She was still holding the steering wheel in a death grip.

  “You’re not disturbing me…I told Barbara to forward all important calls here.” He paused wanting to give her time to respond.

  Again, all she could think of was how sexy he sounded, and all of a sudden, she felt like crying…and did. He heard her swift breath intake as she struggled for control.

  “Sweetheart…what’s wrong?” He inquired softly, the report long since forgotten. He waited.

  He called her sweetheart, she thought, as violent shivers coursed through her body, while silent tears flowed like a river uncontrollably down her cheeks.

  “Sweetheart?” Stephen asked softly, “where are you?” he was extremely alarmed. He heard her voice laced with tears saying, “I’m driving,” followed by a series of tearful hiccups, which she was trying to control without success.

  “Where?” He asked, trying to control his own turbulent emotions demanding that he help her, as awareness of his own helplessness skipped through his mind, tormenting him.

  Taking a deep breath, “tell me where you are.” His soft request helped him to focus, and her to calm down…a little. Sable looked for a street sign and told him where she was. “You’re one block from my house. I’ll be expecting you.” Saying this confidently, knowing that the authority in his voice would rattle her. Then he hung up, knowing she would be there within seconds, if for no other reason, to tell him what she thought of the way he spoke to her.

  Sable had unconsciously driven to Stephen’s home; she did not mean to, it just happened. She had to see him. The events of today had been too much. She needed to see him. To be with him.

  When Stephen opened the door, the first thing he noticed were her tear-swollen eyes; he had been right, she had been crying.

  Gently taking her hands, “come in Sable, welcome to my home,” he said warmly. Closing the door softly behind her, still holding her hands, Stephen led her down a quiet hall toward his library.

  His sanctuary, he liked to call it, though he lived alone. Standing mutely at the entryway, she lightly touched her trembling lips, as she was greeted to splendor.

  Most men did not have an eye for fashion, much less good décor sense, but Stephen’s home was beautiful. His fireplace was blazing and soft jazz was cooing in the background. He told her to make herself comfortable, as he hung her coat, and then went to get a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  He didn’t ask her immediately what was wrong, but allowed her to sip her wine. Watching her stare at the flames in the fireplace, as if it were a movie. Stephen knew that he was hopelessly in love with her.

  Sable Van Cleef did not know it, but she was the only woman for him, and he would take great pleasure in letting her know, but not tonight. He could tell that she was upset and needed…comfort.

  “Stephen…” she said as she gazed into the fire. Turning to him, she couldn’t finish what she was about to say. Sable looked into Stephens’ eyes, and her heart exploded.

  How was she going to work with this man feeling the way she did? He had that look in his eyes again, that unblinking predatory, I-want-you look…and she loved it.

  “Stephen…Lorna’s been hospitalized.” Her voice cracked from the pain of knowing what Lorna was going through, and from the pain of not having him. Inhaling deeply, she lowered her head and momentarily closed her eyes in despair. She felt hopelessly out of control, and didn’t know how or what to do about it.

  Putting his glass down, he moved beside her on the sofa. “I know…it’s all over the news.” As she lifted her head up to look at him, she allowed her eyes to slowly shut out the world, as tears flowed again, silently. Stephen cradled Sable in his arms and neither said a word. None were needed.

  He knew that she and Lorna were close friends. What happened to Lorna must be tearing her apart. He held her, letting her cry, wishing he could ease her pain.

  Sable looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks and said in a shaken voice, “I’m not crying.” She had to be strong and brave; Lorna was going to need her, and she would be there for her friend. She was trembling. The tears fell.

  Stephen kissed her forehead, saying softly, “I know…I know.” Placing her head back on his shoulders, he held her securely in his arms. They sat that way for a long time.

  Stephen held Sable as violent emotions erupted inside of her and demanded release. The release came in the form of racking tears that refused to be ignored. Her body shook violently. She cried for Lorna. She cried for Nick.

  After the tears were spent, Stephen gave her another glass of wine. As she sipped her wine, she told Stephen about Lorna—her childhood and all the events which she knew about that led up to now. Stephen sat in stunned silence.

  As Sable was recounting Lorna’s life story, Stephen took a big gulp of wine; he could not believe what Lorna lived through. If her father had not died, he was sure he could have killed the man himself. When the phone rang, it was a welcome break for them both. It was George Van Cleef.

  “Stephen…have you seen the news?” He did not sound concerned about how it might make the company look; Stephen liked that about George.

  “Yes, your daughter was just explaining it all to me.” George Van Cleef was quiet for a while.

  “Is she all right? They are pretty close.” He asked quietly, with love and concern echoing in his voice.

  Stephen glanced over at Sable; she was staring at the flames in the fireplace again. “She will be… she’s a little shaken. Do you want to talk to her?” Stephen offered. Immediately George said no, and got quiet again.

  “Stephen…” George waited for Stephen to acknowledge him; he wanted to make sure that Stephen understood him.

  “Yes, Mr. Van Cleef?” Responding quietly, he was still looking at Sable. They both knew the formal address was not necessary. Stephen did it out of respect.

  George said nothing for a few moments, “Take care of my daughter.” It was not a command. It was not a request. It was approval.

  Stephen inhaled slowly, feeling relieved, happy, and sad. “Yes…you can be sure of that.” Momentarily closing his eyes, “You can be sure of that.” He said with more confidence.

  “Tell my daughter…” George paused for a moment, “…tell her not to worry. We will take care of Lorna. I’m sure she knows that, but tell her anyway. I’ll be home if you need me.” He was quiet again, as if in deep thought. “Goodnight, Stephen.”

  “Goodnight, sir.” Stephen replace the phone on the hook.

  Sable turned to Stephen. “Was that my father?” Her voice was quietly soft; her eyes were slightly swollen from crying.

  “Yes.” Walking over to her, he sat down. “I asked him if he wanted to speak to you.” Taking her hands in his, “he said that we would take care of Lorna.”

  Sable smiled for the first time that night. “I know, Daddy is an understanding man. He wouldn’t judge her.” She paused, thinking of her father, “I love him because of who he is.”

  They continued to talk a little bit longer. Stephen noticed that Sable was tired and drowsy. He offered to drive her home. Sable didn’t want to be alone, and asked if she could stay.

  His eyes told Sable she could do whatever she wanted. But what came out of his mouth was, that she could sleep on the sofa or have his bed, the choice was hers.

  They sat up until 1:00 a.m., when Stephen said that he was going to call it a night, not because he was tired, but he knew if
he sat there any longer, Sable Van Cleef would be sharing his bed. He wanted her, but not like this, when she was tired and vulnerable. Not tonight. He loved her too much to take advantage of her.

  Getting up from the sofa, he stretched. It had been a long night, and he had an early morning. Turning to Sable, “where would you like to sleep? Sofa or bed?” he inquired quietly.

  The air in the room cracked with the intensity of their desire for one another. Sable did not want him to leave. She wanted to spend the night in his arms.

  “Stephen…” she softly breathed his name, but before she could finish, he placed a finger on her lips to quiet her. He sat down next to her, pulled her back into his arms, and then settled back into the sofa.

  They slept that way all night—Stephen’s feet resting on the coffee table, and Sable curled up in his arms, her head resting on his chest.

  Chapter 20

  It was the blaring sound of an alarm clock that woke Sable the next morning. After turning it off, she looked around confused, realizing she was not at home. She was still at Stephen’s. She was in his bed, alone. The last thing she remembered was sitting on the sofa in Stephen’s arms.

  Memories of last night came flowing back. Sitting up abruptly, she knew she had to get herself together; Lorna will need her. Looking down at herself, she was still dressed she thought with mild surprise, except for her shoes. She smiled.

  Sable went to the living room in search of Stephen. The house was quiet. She saw a pillow and blanket on the sofa neatly folded. This is where he slept, she thought, and had already left for the office. She went to the bathroom and saw a note taped to the medicine cabinet.

  Sweetheart,

  Hope you slept well. Went in early to finalize the opening. There is fresh orange juice in the refrigerator and hot coffee brewing as you read this note. Thank you for a lovely evening…I hope that you are feeling better.

  Stephen

  She smiled. It warmed her heart that he thought of her. He went in early she thought, looking down at her watch. Whispering in shock, “my goodness it’s only now 6:00 a.m.! What time did he get up to get dressed?” Sable passed on the orange juice, but did have some coffee. Stephen had set the timer on the coffeemaker to start five minutes before the alarm was to awaken her. She smiled again shaking her head in wonder.