Of Body And Soul

by L. J. Valentine

  “The question is . . . do I want to?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  They continued without speaking. As they approached the Rio Gorge Bridge,” Kurt asked, “Do you want to walk out on the bridge?”

  “I’d love to do that.”

  Kurt helped her out of the car and led her to the middle of the bridge.

  Andrea looked down. “Whew! I feel dizzy.”

  "Well, according to this information, the bridge is six hundred fifty feet above the Rio Grande. It's magnificent, isn't it?"

  "Yes," she responded, and pulled slightly away from him.

  "Is something wrong? You've been acting strange all morning. Is the ride too much for you and the baby?"

  "No, I've seen enough. Why don't we just go to Sante Fe, and visit some of the museums before it gets too late?"

  He nodded in agreement and helped her back to the car.

  The streets of Sante Fe were bustling with people because of the religious feast days. In the plaza, Pueblo Indians dressed in their ceremonial costumes stood in groups, waiting for the ceremonies to begin.

  Kurt and Andrea watched in awe as the ceremonies unfolded. It was difficult to pull themselves away. They were running out of time and there was so much to see and do.

  "Andrea, I think we should be going. We've been here for five hours."

  "I know, but these artists are magnificent. I can't get over how they play their colors. The texture and media is beautiful. The museums and art galleries . . . “ She raised her arms in surrender. ”I'd love to take some classes here. Do you think that would be possible?"

  He looked at her. She was a phenomenon. He hadn’t thought she could be more beautiful. But pregnant, she radiated. He wanted to blurt everything out to her at this very moment. "You'll have to ask Doctor Mendoza how much longer you'll be staying in New Mexico."

  She looked at him, a question written on her face.

  He turned from her. "Come on, let's go."

  "Kurt. What's the matter?"

  "I have to leave in a few days."

  "What? Why? Did you accept a job somewhere else?"

  "You might say that."

  "Why? I thought you wanted to help me?"

  "I do," he said, "but . . . ."

  "But what?"

  "Things are getting out of hand with us.”

  She looked at him, knowing full well what he was saying.

  He took her hand. "Come on, let's go. It's getting late and Grayson will be worried."

  When Andrea stepped out of the gallery to a beautiful blue sky she lifted her face to the sun feeling the cold of the day and the heat of the sun all at one time. "Oh, it feels like a hot towel on a cold body."

  "Don't let the New Mexico air fool you," he said. "And don't be lulled by this sunny weather. It can deteriorate from clear and sunny to a heavy snowfall in a matter of hours."

  "Aren't you a wealth of information. Did you stay up all night reading tour books?"

  "Don't be sarcastic."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound that way. I guess I'm hungry. Aren't you ever going to feed me?"

  "I don't think we should stay. It feels like it's gotten colder. Maybe we should head back."

  "No. Let's go over to the St. Francis Hotel. I read somewhere that they have a traditional afternoon tea. That would be so much fun," she said. She grabbed his hand and hobbled down the street to the St. Francis.

  “Do you know where we're going?" he said.

  “Yes, I do. The hotel is supposed to be one block southwest of this Plaza."

  “That’s great," he said. "But we're going in the opposite direction."

  “Oh.” She giggled, then turned in the opposite direction.

  From the moment she entered the hotel, she felt as if time had turned back. The unique ambiance of the early 1920’s room projected a feeling of romance and casual elegance. Black wrought iron chandeliers hung from fourteen-foot ceilings. Elegant moldings graced the ceilings and walls. Huge columns jutted from soft apricot colored Mexican tile floors to the ceiling, giving the room a feeling of intimate alcoves.

  Soothing Chamber music reached out from one of these alcoves and drew them into its mood. They sat back comfortably, listening, looking, and enjoying the serene beauty.

  “Do you realize you know everything about me and I know nothing about you, except you're my nurse?"

  "What would you like to know?"

  "Everything,’ she said provocatively. Or” she paused. “As much as you want me to know."

  He told her about the childhood he and his sister Emily had on the Cape. Too late, he realized what he had said. He tried to cover his mistake. “Have you ever been to . . . ?”

  “Yes.” She fixed her eyes on him. "How come you never mentioned you had a sister Emily? Didn't you think it a coincidence that my best friend's name is Emily and your sister's name is Emily?"

  "To tell you the truth, I never thought about it."

  She felt a sudden chill.

  "What?” he asked.

  "Nothing. Go on with your story."

  "My father was very abusive. Without equivocation he was an appalling and harmful father. His fists were an armada of his edicts and authority." The memory set his teeth on edge and opened the door to a lot of painful memories, which had become easier to deal with since his treatments with Dr. Correo.

  "Oh, Kurt," she said tenderly. She reached for his hand and held it, as he told her of his teenage years and the constant physical and mental abuse his father dealt him.

  "I have never figured out why he changed toward me. He loved me as a child. He always showed me affection. At times he could be funny and sometimes, I swear, he was even gentle. Like this one time I was practicing to try out for the football team. He really got into to it. He hired a private coach to work with me for a month. On weekends, when he came home, he would come over to the football field and watch me. He’d tell me how good I was and how special I was. To this day, I still try to recapture that special month.

  "But, when I became a teenager, he turned into a monster. The therapist said I'd become a threat to him, or maybe even a rival. The doctor felt that my father become jealous of my looks and the way my mother treated me. You see, my Dad wasn't much to look at, but his personality made up for it. My mother fell in love with him, not his looks. He could never understand that. The older I got, the more abusive he became. He began to drink and became abusive to my mother and sister. It became intolerable for me. I took a job after school, and after work I’d go to the library and study. I worked hard and studied hard.

  “When I received a scholarship from Boston College, I went, gladly. I went away and never returned and neither did my father. The last time I saw my father was through eyes that could barely opened.” Kurt paused. “See this. This is what he left me." He pointed to a scar at the corner of his eye, "My father punched me in the face and his ring caught me. It's a wonder he didn't blind me."

  Andrea gently touched his eye. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

  "My mother was in a nursing home. She had lost her mind. During the holidays my sister and I would get together in Boston. During the summer, I worked on Nantucket Island and she’d come to the Island for vacation. When we received the news my father had passed away, I felt relieved. I think my sister felt the same way. Within the year, my Mom also passed away. Emily went off to college and got her teaching degree, and I went off and got my jour. . . .my nursing degree. Now, there's just Em and me. We take care of each other. We have since we were kids," he said and smiled, and glanced at his watch. "I can't believe the time." He motioned to the waiter to bring their bill. "We'd better leave. Grayson's going to be worried sick."

  “While you're paying the bill, I'll give her a call and let her know we're on our way.” Andrea gave him a quick kiss and hurried off. An electric sparkle lingered as she went to find a phone.

  “Hi Grayson. Sorry it's so late. We'll be leaving shortly. What! No, I didn't realize it was snowing. I'll call you ba
ck and let you know. Yes. I promise. Good‑bye."

  Kurt approached her as she turned from the phone. "Have you checked what's going on outside?" he asked, worry emanating from his voice.

  “No, I hadn’t realized it was snowing until I talked to Grayson. She feels we shouldn't attempt to make it back to Wyndemere. She said it had started to snow about an hour ago and the roads are treacherous."

  "I agree with her. I just talked with the hotel concierge and he also said not to drive back to Taos. So . . . what do you want to do, get rooms here, and spend the night? Or do you want to chance the drive back?"

  "Room," she said, in a sultry voice.

  He looked at her and knew this situation would lead to a confrontation. He wanted her so, but he must have control.

  “I said ‘rooms’.”

  Kurt was unable to get rooms on different floors. The only rooms available were adjoining. He smiled as he walked away from the desk, tossing the keys in his hand. Not too long ago, he would have paid anything to have adjoining rooms. He laughed at the irony of the situation.

  “What’s so amusing?"

  "Oh, nothing."

  "Where's your room?" she asked.

  "Would you believe, adjoining yours."

  “Is that what the laugh is all about?"

  "Go." He shoved her into her room and closed the door. "Lock it, Andrea."

  He scrutinized his room as he entered. The king size bed brought back memories of hot flesh and warm lips. Stunned by his reaction, he quickly turned on the TV to take his mind off Andrea and their life as it used to be. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, he never heard her enter his room through the adjoining door.

  She stood watching his back. His hand automatically ran through his hair. She noticed he did that when he was in deep thought. The magnetic pull of his masculinity embarrassed her. She groaned as her feelings took over.

  He turned and saw her staring.

  "I hope you don't mind that I let myself in?"

  "No. Of course not. Make yourself comfortable. I was just about to call housekeeping, to see if we could get toothbrushes, toothpaste, and bathrobes."

  “Thanks. I didn't think about that." She smiled that wonderful smile. "But I did think of dinner. I ordered room service."

  "Why don't we just go down to the restaurant?"

  She turned her eyes away, knowing they each sensed a reserve in the other. "I'm extremely tired. I just want to take a relaxing bath, have dinner, and watch some TV." She looked at him for a reaction.

  He eyed her with a look of amusement. Shaking his head, he turned, not sure of what she really meant and not trusting himself to be with her in such an intimate way.

  After she'd gone back to her room, he thought about their earlier conversation. It had been easy to talk to her. Why didn't he tell her the truth from the beginning? All this could have been avoided. Their lives would have been free of this mess.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  When he entered her room, the dinner cart had already been delivered. She sat at the table in front of the fireplace, in a plush, white terry robe. Her hair, still damp, was pulled back in a ponytail. A few golden hairs escaped the band and curled around her face.

  The fire cast a golden incandescence over her and the entire room glowed in the warmth of the fire. The dinner cart was laden with an assortment of seafood, and the table was set with china and crystal. He looked around the room and saw magnificent pots of Phalaenopsis, Dendrobiums, and Cattleyas. He felt weak as he walked toward her. She remembers.

  "You look startled. Is something wrong?"

  "No, I'm surprised to see orchids this time of year. How did you find them?"

  "I saw them when we were having tea and asked if a few plants could be brought up for us to enjoy during dinner. Why? Don't you like orchids?"

  "I love them. In fact, I plan to raise them someday."

  She looked at him, perplexed. They both sat in silence for a moment. "Look at this," she said, pointing to the wineglasses.

  "Glasses but no wine. They must have forgotten to put it on the tray.”

  She rose from the table to call room service. She felt his hand on hers.

  "Don't bother. Thanks anyway."

  “Do you know, I haven't had a glass of wine, except for that sip of champagne at the Wyndemere, since the accident and I really miss it. I guess that means I used to like it before," she chuckled.

  Silence fell upon them as they ate. He couldn't take his eyes off her, or she off him. Every now and then their hands touched as they passed one thing or another across the table. It was like a jolt of electricity passing through them, a tingling that neither one wanted to let go.

  "Kurt, I'm falling in love with you and your eyes tell me you have the same feelings."

  “Andrea, please. I want you to get your memory back before you make such a positive statement."

  “I don’t care if I ever get it back. The only thing I know is I'm happiest when I'm with you."

  “I feel the same way. I'd hoped, by being together so much, you would remember. I believe you have begun to remember. The orchids, for one thing, and when I mentioned I had a sister named Emily, you showed recognition. Am I right?"

  "Yes." She squinted her eyes. "Some of the things I remember I think are dreams, and some of the dreams I think are fact. I'm confused. Are you or are you not a part of my past?"

  "Yes, I am. A very important part."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  She went to him and kissed him, letting her lips linger a moment. "I knew it."

  “Knew what?”

  “That you love me.”

  He tried to pull away from her, but lost control. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He removed her robe and kissed her breasts and then her stomach.

  She reached out and stroked his back, lifting his shirt and feeling his flesh. She urged him on, kissing his neck, his eyes, and his throat. Whispers of sheer need escaped her lips.

  “I told you once before I play for keeps," he groaned.

  Suddenly, she heard roaring in her ears, shapeless and immense. Through her darkness a stab of light painfully emerged. There was only one conclusion.

  She must think. Thought was the only possible way of dealing with this, making some sense, finding an escape back into reason and an understandable world again. She needed to examine this situation piece by piece . . . but, it couldn't be, he can’t be my husband.

  She slapped at his hands and chest. She couldn't get away from him fast enough. She dropped her legs over the side of the bed.

  He grabbed her and pulled her back. An ugly and dangerous thought came to her. "Don't, don't touch me," she shouted and grabbed her robe and pulled it tightly around her. She rubbed her hands on her arms as she paced back and forth. "The tables are turned now, aren't they, Kurt? Do you find this amusing? Are you using your body to entice me now? I remember you said that to me the night you walked out."

  "No. No, I'm not." He lifted his hand with caution. "Let me explain."

  "Why should I listen to you? You walked out on me, remember?"

  "Ask yourself why I walked out." His heart thumped against his rib cage. "Would you care for me to account for everyday of my life?"

  "Don't be ridiculous." She looked at him carefully, but couldn't see any sarcasm in him.

  "Andrea, please." He took a step toward her. Her hand shot out as if to protect herself. She nodded her head. “No. Go. Please go.”

  "Let me tell you why."

  "No, not now. I can't take any more truth."

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  “Why? Why?" It was a senseless charade. Andrea sat in the armchair, staring out of the window. Heavy snow lined the streets. Even though the fireplace roared, the chill captured her. Minutes turned into hours, dragging through the night. At first she paced nervously, back and forth, back and forth, until her back ached, then she threw herself on the bed and methodically massaged her stomach.

  Her body became frigid and still a
s the realization of this senseless nightmare grew. She felt tormented by her memory, remembering the visions of their last night as they tumbled from their hiding place. Struggling, she reflected on every detail, every word of that night.

  Finally, night turned into morning and the realization of her love for Kurt hit her fully. She was prepared to see him when the gentle knock came to the door.

  "Andrea, let me in. I need to make you understand, and then, if you never want to see me again, I'll disappear from your life.”

  Andrea opened the door, then walked directly to one of the love seats in front of the fireplace. She pointed to the other on the opposite side. When she looked at Kurt, she saw a pained and wounded man.

  He covered his eyes and felt her gaze on his hands, steady and judgmental. He dropped his hands and met her eyes. Eyes that had cried all night. Even pregnant, she was more beautiful and voluptuous than ever.

  "When you and I talked during tea, I was telling you about my life. Emily and I had a horrifying childhood. I had treatment when I was very young, and I thought I was all right. I never dreamed I would react the way I did. I thought I had left that all behind me.

  "When I met you, my life changed. I thought I could adjust to having a family. I thought that in a few years I’d be ready for fatherhood. But when you told me we were expecting, I became extremely frightened. I freaked out. I just freaked out."

  He reached over and took her hand. "During your recuperation, Andrea, I talked with a doctor at the hospital. Dr. Correo made me aware I'd broken the cycle of child abuse when I moved out of my parents’ home. No other doctor had told me that.

  "All my life I felt like I've been living a lie. It’s horrible not being able to talk freely about something that affected my life so strongly. How could I get over the pain of something if I couldn't talk about it? Sure, I can talk about it in therapy, but I could never discuss it with you. Dr. Correo made me aware the only way for me to achieve my goal was to totally commit myself emotionally, to you and our baby.

  "During therapy I realized that just because I didn't receive love and nurturing from my parents didn't mean I wasn't able as a parent to give it to a child of my own.