Frost on My Window

by Angela Weaver

  “The press never mentioned that you were drinking that night,” I commented.

  “I hadn’t started. I got home that night to find that Pete and Danny had emptied the entire contents of my bar into the toilet. I went ballistic and before they could stop me I was out the door. I practically ran that family’s car off the road.”

  Sean rubbed his temple. “Pete pulled some strings to make it look like a weather-related accident, then locked me up in a house about thirty miles from here.”

  “How long?”

  “Four weeks.”

  “Cold turkey?” I asked.

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “And afterward I avoided alcohol for the most part. I’d only allowed myself a glass of wine until the night we met.”

  “Did you drive home that morning?” I asked. My throat went dry at the thought that Sean could have put himself in harm’s way.

  “No way,” he laughed. “I felt like absolute hell. Jerrod dumped me into one of his guest rooms until I could walk again.”

  “That bad, huh?” I commented before taking a sip of water.

  “Worse. I learned my lesson, Leah. I’ll not be doing that again.”

  “Good.” I shivered in the heat of the sun thinking about Rena’s parents. “I never told, you but Rena’s parents were killed by a drunk driver.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shrugged as though it were something unimportant. “It’s not me that needs the sympathy, it’s Rena.”

  “But I can tell that the memory still hurts you.”

  “He won’t let us forget. The man who did it writes Rena a letter every year asking for her forgiveness. How can he expect her to forgive and maybe get some closure when his letter reminds her of the fact that his recklessness took away her parents?”

  Sean shook his head. “I can only tell you that I have to live with the guilt. It’s not something that you can put in a box and hide in the closet. The parents only suffered a couple of bruises, but their three-year-old son’s arm was broken. Because of me that boy’s trust in the goodness of the world got ripped apart.”

  I could see that this was tearing him up inside. His face was haunted. “Trust me, Leah. That man can’t suffer any more than he’s been suffering since the accident.”

  “You’re probably right, Sean. But there’s a small place in my heart that fills with anger when his letter arrives in the mail.” I looked towards the ground and followed the slow progress of a brown bug.

  “Does it help you?” he asked after a moment of silence.

  “What?”

  “The anger. I suspect it’s weighted you down for years. Let it go.”

  “But Rena…” I protested.

  “…has her own anger and grief,” he finished. “You can’t live her life, her pain. Only your own.”

  “Have you let go of your anger?” I turned the question back at him. Sean was great at solving other people’s problems, dealing with other people’s emotions, just not his own.

  “What?”

  “The anger you have towards your mother.”

  He looked out over the horizon before turning those stormy eyes back to me. Too close to home, I guess. I had seen it in Rena. The anger at the unfairness of his mother’s death still ate at him. Sean turned to look out into the horizon and the silence lay heavy between us.

  “No.”

  “Why?” I pushed.

  “Because I’m afraid. If I let it go what do I do? How will I sing when there’s nothing inside me but emptiness?”

  I looked towards the desert that I had thought so empty and desolate as the airplane prepared to land the other day. At this moment, this place with its dry earth, green cactus and rolling tumbleweeds was far from empty.

  I reached up and touched Sean’s jaw, drawing his eyes to mine. “You fill it up with something else.”

  “God, Leah. When my mother died I didn’t think I would ever stop hurting. It ate at me from the time I opened my eyes in the morning until I slept at night. Only the music kept me together, but gradually the hurt burnt itself out and I was left with nothing but rage. No sadness, just anger. Placing flowers on her grave did nothing to take it away.”

  “You have to let go. I’m not saying forget. You have wonderful happy memories of your mother. Those are the ones you keep with you always.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  It wasn’t. I’d filled my life with fantasies and dreams. I’d poured Rena’s grief and pain into my world to fill up its emptiness. I filled myself with everything and everyone except self.

  “It’s not,” I admitted. “It’s not easy to work on dealing with your own emotions, living your life and discovering who you are.”

  “How?” His whispered request was an eternity of questioning boxed into one word. I looked towards the two horses standing nearby and the idea came to me.

  “How easy was learning how to ride?”

  He laughed. “He threw me twice.”

  “But you got back on?”

  He nodded, understanding the direction my questions were taking.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Same thing. You have to take it one step, one day at a time. I have to do the same,” I admitted.

  “You’re remarkable.”

  My breath caught at his compliment. His eyes twinkled.

  “Glad you think so.” I shifted to ease the pressure on my sore rear end.

  “I mean it, Leah Russell. I’ve never met a woman like you before.”

  “That’s because you’ve been looking in the wrong places.”

  His thumb lightly caressed my bottom lip before pinching my cheek.

  “I’m not looking anymore.”

  Sean’s reply took my breath away and my stomach clenched. I moved to stand up, but he was already there holding out his hand.

  “Ready to go back?” he asked, helping me to stand. Every muscle in my thighs screamed bloody murder. The pain put spin class to shame.

  I tilted my head and looked up at him from the shadow of his arms. “Now I get it. Butter me up and then make me get back on that damn horse.”

  “We could ride double on Storm.”

  “No, thanks.” I eyed the big evil-looking tan gelding. “Do we have to go back so soon? I’m really feeling this place.”

  “Ten minutes,” he smiled.

  “Thirty.”

  “Fifteen,” he shot back.

  “Done.” I’d turned away to walk towards the food bag for a bottle of water when Sean touched my arm.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked.

  “What?” I strained to listen for something other than the sound of the horses.

  Then I heard it, an unnatural sound in the stillness of the desert. The horses began to snort and paw at the ground. Sean froze and pulled his arms from around my shoulders. He handed me Cloud’s reins and stared out towards the west.

  “We’ve got to go.” His face was closed.

  “What is it?”

  “Visitors.”

  “Visitors?” I asked. “Why in the world should we have to leave because someone wants to see the desert from the sky?”

  “They’re not here to see the desert, Leah. None of the local tour operators come out this way, only the photographers, so unless you want to see more pictures of yourself in the news, we need to get out of here.”

  “Good point.”

  He quickly placed his hands around my waist and lifted me up on the horse’s back. My thighs protested but I held the reins tight, trying to keep Cloud from bolting. The sound was coming closer and when I lifted my hand to cover my eyes, I saw it.

  At first all I saw was a storm of dust that seemed to be bearing down on us. Its swirling violence was mesmerizing. Then the sound broke the spell. There was a helicopter flying straight towards us. I turned Cloud towards Sean’s mount, gave a gentle kick to her sides, and let her go. All I could do was concentrate on not falling off. Fear beat at my heart. My concentration on not flying off that horse
was the only thing that kept me from screaming.

  I prayed hard as the mare’s hooves pounded the dirt. The wind whipped off my hat and the sound of the helicopter beat in my ears. My hands held on tight to the pommel as my legs gripped Cloud’s sides. My last thought was, This is what I get for being adventurous. If black folks were meant to ride horses, the Lord wouldn’t have given us two good feet and a brain.

  Chapter 16

  I filled the tub with the hottest water I could stand, then stripped and eased in. As I sat there numbly watching steam rise, I realized two things at once. First, I had never tried to find a man to love. Like Cinderella, I’d waited for the right man, the right time, perfect moment to come to me. I’d never looked because I was afraid. Lance’s choosing Sherrie over me wasn’t about me. I had never put myself out there as an option. I’d always expected, hoped, dreamed, and wanted but never acted.

  As Sean’s face swam before my eyes, I realized I didn’t want to wait anymore. I wanted Sean’s arms around me. I wanted the man who had witnessed all my strengths and faults, weaknesses and vulnerabilities. I stepped out of the tub when the water became lukewarm and wrapped myself in the plush towel.

  I stared into the mirror, realizing that I wasn’t twenty-one and in love with the wrong man. My world didn’t revolve around could-have, I-wish-I-had. I could choose, and tonight I chose to put aside the past and uncertainty. As I rubbed shea butter into my skin and then pulled on my black satin nightgown, I decided it was time to change.

  * * *

  Sean was sitting in the den when I came downstairs, long legs stretched out so that his head rested on the back of the overstuffed chair. His tousled hair lay over his brow and his eyes were closed as I quietly entered the room. The fading sun highlighted his tan cheek. His lips were slightly parted in sleep and his face showed the lingering weariness of the hard ride back to the house.

  I couldn’t help studying him. He had showered and changed clothes, replacing the faded jeans for a pair of khakis, a shirt and leather moccasins. My chest tightened, my breath caught in my throat.

  Staring down at Sean, I realized that this was a man who fulfilled all my desires. This was a man who would always love me more, just like my grandmother had told me years ago. But I didn’t know if I could continue to walk in his world or he in mine. I closed my mind to the thought of living my life in the media spotlight, always in the glare of the public eye.

  I looked down at the brownness of my hand and I shuddered to think of what I would see in the newspapers. Everything would change. It had already begun. Within twenty-four hours, our pictures would be splattered on the front of every entertainment magazine and gossip sheet in the country and I wondered if that difference would kill the bond that had grown uninvited and strong between us.

  Sean opened his eyes, blinking twice to clear them of lingering sleepiness, and then he smiled. It made my knees weak, because I knew that special unpracticed smile was real. Just for me. The warmth in his emerald-colored eyes was something I’d never tire of seeing. No matter what happened this night, I would never forget the sight that greeted me when he woke. Sean looked at me as though I were a precious treasure, to be protected, loved, adored, and that alone made me want to weep.

  The silence continued as the room grew dim. I could neither move nor speak. I didn’t know what to say as I fought to quiet the butterflies gathered in my stomach. The smile vanished from his lips as those green eyes of his searched my face.

  “Are you okay, Leah?” he asked.

  “I’m a little nervous,” I answered honestly.

  Sean stood slowly and brushed a few strands of hair from his face. My fingers dug into the back of the chair I was standing beside. I’d been so sure that I was ready to take this last step. Positive that I would banish my ghosts and give reality a chance to wipe away the half-remembered dreams and longing.

  “I thought you’d need a little time alone,” Sean stated.

  He had come to stand opposite me. Unspoken words seemed to hang in the air between us.

  I nodded. “I did a lot of thinking.”

  The image of the photographer’s lens flashed before my eyes. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors sounded in my ears and the gallop of the horse resonated in my bones.

  “Come to any conclusions?” Sean asked. There was a guarded vulnerability in his voice now.

  This man who sang in front of millions, collected awards like baseball cards and was voted one of the most handsome men in America felt uncertain because of me. The way he half turned away gave me more of an insight into his inner self, the boy who knew all about rejection. Sean had been the school outcast and the class rebel. Music had become his escape, until he discovered that it could get him what he thought he wanted: money and friends.

  I looked at him. “Not really. I still have a lot of things in my head.”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He tried to turn towards the window.

  I moved around the chair, reached out and grabbed his hand. “But I’m here with you now because I’m listening to my heart,” I continued.

  I reached up to caress his cheek and whispered, “I walked up to a stranger who now means more to me than I know how to put into words.”

  He opened his mouth and I placed my fingers over his lips.

  “You always said that you belong to me because I saved your life. Right now mine seems to be spinning out of control, Sean. The sight of the helicopter won’t leave my mind. Help me take it away.”

  I moved my fingers from his lips and ran them over his cheek. The feel of the slightly prickly stubble coupled with the sight of my mocha-colored hand sliding over his jaw sent shivers over the back of my neck. I cradled his face in my hands and I looked into his eyes.

  How could I turn from him? Some part of me was still the baby of the family, selfish. I didn’t want to share him with the world; I wanted him all to myself. But as my head struggled to gain control, my heart led the way. Not even the voice in the back of my mind warning me that this would change things could stop me because I didn’t care. There’d be no going back. I wouldn’t go to my grave with regrets lying in the pit of my stomach.

  My heart pounded as I placed my fingertips over his lips once more to silence the words I saw pouring out his eyes. As his arms encircled my waist, I leaned in close, enjoying the spice of his cologne.

  Standing next to the window as the sunset bathed us in coppery highlights, I moved my hand and placed my lips upon his, catching his breath in my mouth. I wanted to seduce him with sweet loving words that would show him how much he meant to me, but I didn’t have the courage.

  Instead of speaking, I curled my arms around his neck and fell into his long, tender kiss, losing myself in the sensual whirlpool of desire. When his tongue caressed mine, the electric shock of my arousal could have lit up the desert sky.

  “Make love to me, Sean,” I whispered after pulling back.

  “Are you sure?”

  I looked into his eyes and the breath left my chest. He wasn’t Sean Andrews, the famous rock star, or dear friend. He was a man, a man fully aroused, a man who wanted me.

  “Oh, yes,” I said softly. I took his hand and let him lead me upstairs to his bedroom. And in the silence, I realized that I wanted no declarations of love from Sean. I just wanted him and the magic that which always seemed to flow at the touch of his hands.

  * * *

  I woke up, opened my eyes and looked at the naked man lying next to me.

  I’m in love with this man.

  I waited for the wonder. I waited for the feeling that all is perfect in the world. Instead, I felt like a Monday morning. That Monday morning when you get out of bed and look at the bathroom mirror and lie to yourself by saying, “Damn, girl, you look good today.”

  Sean lay still in sleep. One arm hugged the pillow while the other lay crooked across my stomach. Lord, the man was gorgeous. His broad shoulders were relaxed in sleep and his dark blond hair lay tousled on the pill
ow.

  Last night, he’d caressed and kissed almost every inch of my body. He’d loved me in that curl-a-girl’s-toes-come-back-for-more way. I’d had the cake and drunk the Kool-Aid. It was no wonder women lost their minds. I’d left every bit of my common sense on the floor with my nightgown. I looked at him and tears burned in the back of my throat. He was so damn handsome. Not the Hollywood stuff, but the blue-gold of a summer sunrise over the Pacific, the intense warmth that turned cold sand into shimmering gold.

  I wanted to bury my face in the nape of his neck and inhale, but his eyes remained closed and his parted lips emitted a sigh. Just like a man: clueless. I wanted him to wake up, look at me and curl his arms around me as if I were the love of his life. I wanted soft words and warm reassurances.

  Instead, I slipped quietly out his bed and gathered my scattered clothes. Fear had me telling lies in order to protect myself because last night was too good to be true.

  I’m a grown woman with needs. Uh-huh, this was just good sex. By the time I got into the shower, I’d managed to define my relationship with Sean as a loving friendship. As the warm water spilled down my back and ran over the soft, sensitive places Sean’s fingers and lips had touched, I’d worked out that we were just two people who cared about one another.

  When I got out of the shower and stepped into the steam-filled bathroom, I reached for the towel and stopped. Sean stood leaning against the wall, staring at me with a hungry look and a half frown. He stepped forward and reached for my towel, not for a second breaking eye contact. He took the towel from my nerveless fingers and proceeded to wrap me in the thick cotton.

  As I looked down at his hands, the truth hit me between the eyes. What I felt for the man was deep and strong. Not the turn out the lights, hold me tight, and love me through the night feeling. It was a slow warmth that started in the middle of my stomach and had every other body part tingling.

  I shivered at Sean’s touch, loving the surprising coolness of his fingers on my skin. He leaned into me and I met him in his kiss.

  It was not like the first tender meeting of our mouths. He pressed his mouth down hard on mine, as if he had better do it fast, before I could pull away. But it awakened in me a hunger to match.