by Lee Boschen
"What was I supposed to do, just let you freeze to death?"
"Of course not, but if you hadn't done what you did I'd be dead. Don't you think I can see an obligation there?"
"If you keep thinking that way you'll spoil everything."
"What?"
"It starts with a simple feeling of gratitude, and that's okay. Sure you're glad. I understand that, but a heartfelt thanks and we're even. I mean that, Richard. But if you keep dwelling on it, pretty soon it'll turn into a debt, a debt you think you can't pay. You'll begin to feel the weight of it. Then you'll start to resent that weight, and after a while you'll start to resent me. And you'll end up hating me."
"No.” He shook his head. “I would never do that."
"You will,” she cried. “It happens to people all the time. Why do you think we're warned not to do our friends a favor by loaning them money? I'll tell you why. Because it's the surest way in the world to turn them into our enemies."
He was silent for a moment. He stood from the chair by the telephone stand and had a long stretch, then he sat down on the couch beside Leslie.
"Well,” he said finally, “it wasn't such a big deal anyway."
She glanced askance at him. “No, it wasn't."
"You just had to half-carry me across the road, bully me up the steps, drag me in where it was warm ... doesn't sound like much, does it?"
She started smiling. “A few minute's work."
"Strip off the wet clothes, wrap me up in foil, make me breakfast, take me into town and get me sewed up, feed me again..."
She moved closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “Basic civic responsibility."
"You could have left me at the hospital to find my way to the sheriff's office."
"Uh-huh. Think of the trouble that would have saved."
He put his arm around her shoulder. “Am I permitted to be glad that it didn't happen that way?"
"Uh-huh."
"Tell me about Coleen."
The change of subject was too swift. “Coleen?"
"Your daughter."
"Oh. She's nine. Sharp. Mind like a razor. Like her mother."
"Like mother, like daughter, they say. She must be very pretty."
Leslie's heart swelled with affection. “You're nice. Yes, she's pretty. She has her father's blue eyes and my brown hair."
"And her mother's strength?"
"Strength? I'm not strong. Oh, physically, maybe. But I go around scared all the time."
"You don't seem scared of me."
"You don't want to kill me,” she retorted.
"What do I want to do, Leslie?"
The sweaty heat began to rise again. She gulped. “This is absolutely crazy. I'm thirty-three years old,” she said, “the mother of a third grader, and I'm scared to death."
"Scared? Those little shivers, you mean? The way your hands shake sometimes? Tremors in your belly? I know them well, these last few hours, and no, that's not fright, that's excitement. Isn't it nice?"
Nice? She stared wildly at him before she recognized the truth. Yes, it is. You make me feel alive. I don't know exactly where we're going, but, oh God, I want to go there with you.
"I'll tell you what I feel like,” she said. “Did you ever see a rodeo on TV? I'm the rider sitting on the bronco in the chute, waiting for them to let loose of him and open the gates—"
"And all hell breaks loose? Leslie, it may be a wild ride for a while, but if we hang on—"
"My pulse is fast. I feel hot inside. And I want ... Richard, I don't know for sure what's happened, and I'm not sure why I'm glad it's you, but I'm a real beaver for work, and I'm going to work like hell on this."
His eyes grew shiny, and he blinked rapidly. “Ah, Leslie..."
She shook her head. “Yes. From here on out it's full court press, mister."
He turned his head slowly, gazing at her from the corners of his eyes. “Leslie, you watch what you say."
"I know it's crazy. What is there between us? A trip across the road, right? What else? A kiss? A single kiss? Not really that big a deal, is it?” She shrugged bravely. “I mean, just a kiss."
Richard sighed deeply. “I seem to recall that there are kisses, and then there are kisses."
She shivered at the memory. “Yes,” she agreed, “I've heard that too. And you're going to want to kiss me again, aren't you? Or me, you."
He nodded. “Might as well go for broke, huh?"
"Yeah.” A smile trembled on her lips, and she took his face between her hands. “Oh, Richard, I'm just now realizing that I haven't acted like a woman since forever. Yes, I know, I look like a woman. I do all the womanly things, but it's like I've been care-taking this body while the owner has been away."
"And you've just heard that the owner is back in town?"
"I may have forgotten ... how to act like a woman."
"My God.” He rolled his eyes. “No way. Even without trying, you're more woman than any I've ever known.” He paused, then grinned. “But I guess that's not saying much, is it, since I can't remember any other woman. But after that kiss, just thinking of what your full court press must be like—” He closed his eyes, smiling. After a moment his smile faded, and he looked at her. “You know, and I know, that something good, something special, happened between us today. I want to take it further, but—” His smile returned. “You're a very beautiful woman, and it isn't going to be easy, but I'll wait until you're ready. I promise you that, Leslie. I wouldn't have it any other way."
She felt as though she'd taken a step from the shadows into full sunlight and she was frightened, knowing of their problems, wanting to cower back into the shadows. And she was thrilled, thinking of the potential, warm and exciting in the sun. She drew a deep breath and rejected the lure of the shadows.
She gazed intently at Richard. “For dinner ... I don't usually go there except on Friday, but ... what do you think of the Prince George restaurant? It's in the Meridian Hotel, in Indianapolis."
Richard thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I'm not sure I've ever been there. Is the food good?"
Leslie sighed softly. It was worth a try. But tomorrow we'll go there to see if they know your name. “Well, wait a minute, if you like ribs, Adam's Rib, in Zionsville, is fantastic. And they're a lot closer."
For an instant, when Leslie came down from dressing, Richard thought his heart had quit. She was wearing a short, black, very sexy slip dress, the hem perhaps a hand's width above her knees, and at his first sight of her spectacular legs, his imagining what the rest of her must look like absolutely shattered his cool.
The way her breasts had mounded above the fabric she was holding to her front hadn't helped any either. Or maybe it had helped a lot, he wasn't sure which. She came to the bottom of the stairs and turned her back to him.
"Will you zip me, please?"
His hands seemed to belong to someone else, and he watched as they pulled the zipper up the channel of her spine from where she curved out so delightfully in back, the black dress gradually closing over the pale, flawless skin. He even volunteered to hook the little fastener at the top. But the hook and the eye were tiny and it took some doing, and his hands got sweaty as he watched her shiver at his touch in the sensitive area between her shoulder blades. Then she turned around and looked at him.
"Do you like it?"
All he had been able to see was great golden eyes regarding him solemnly.
He managed to nod. She stepped back, inviting his inspection, completing his destruction.
"Do you think it's too tight?"
He shook his head dumbly, and she smiled and took his arm and led him from the house.
* * * *
The lovely blonde hostess at Adam's Rib shook her head. “I'm so sorry,” she said. “On Saturday, without a reservation ... I can't seat you now."
"Oh, that's all right,” Leslie said. “We'll wait."
The woman smiled. “Good. Thank you.” Whirling, her blonde hair flaring, she led th
em to a large room filled with people sitting and standing around, some resigned, some fidgeting restlessly. “If you'll wait here, I'll call you when I can seat you."
"These people,” Richard said. “They're waiting too?"
The hostess nodded.
"And how long—"
"I'm afraid I won't be able to seat you for at least forty-five minutes. I'm terribly sorry,” she said, standing very close to Richard and looking up at him. “Does forty-five minutes seem too long?"
"Uh—” Richard said.
To a suddenly cross Leslie, the woman seemed more attentive and more regretful than she ought to be. She took Richard by the arm and tugged him toward the exit. “Come on, I'll get you fed. It may not be ribs, but..."
Richard was very quiet as Leslie drove them back home. His head was bowed. He's probably trying to come up with something from his past, she thought, and so she didn't disturb his thoughts by talking. Besides, it felt nice just to have him there. Silence was no longer unfriendly. She grinned, remembering the looks they'd gotten when they'd finally found a place to eat. She in her dream-closet dress, him wearing his cap, happily munching on Burger King Whoppers. They'd gotten a lot of smiles, but they were friendly smiles, and suddenly she knew why. All the world loves a lover, she thought, and we might as well have been wearing a sign, a big sign that said ‘We're in Love.'
But, God, it felt good.
Still smiling, she pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine. Turning to him, she said, “Sir, this is as far as the bus goes."
He didn't move. A chill of fear swept away her mood. What was the matter with him? She reached out to touch his cheek and he stirred, looking up.
"Mm-m, home already?"
Her laugh was little more than a gasp of relief. “Enjoy your nap?"
Blinking, he looked at her. “I wasn't much company, huh?"
She laughed giddily. “Actually you were. Just being there. I ought to kick myself for keeping you up this late. You need rest after last night, not some crazy woman dragging you all over Zionsville to get dinner."
He yawned hugely. “Sorry,” he said. “It's not really that late, is it. How about a cup of coffee to wake me up?"
She shook her head. “No way. You're going to bed. You can have the room across the hall from me.” She led him into the house, up the stairs to his room, and then she stood in front of him and made a little speech.
"I've never locked my bedroom door. There's never been any need to. There's never been anyone like you here. Will I need to lock my door tonight?"
He shook his head slowly, smiling. “You really call ‘em the way you see them, don't you? Okay. No, you won't need any keys to keep me out.” His eyes traveled slowly up and down her. “But that dress, won't you need some help with that tiny hook and that long zipper? After all, I'm experienced, you know."
Her sudden grin almost startled him with its brilliance. “You may help me with my zipper.” She turned her back, sweeping the heavy mass of her hair to one side to reveal the little hook and eye.
Standing there with the scent of her perfume surrounding him, the graceful line of her neck bared, it was déjà vu for Richard. And again his big hands struggled with the tiny hook.
Leslie scrunched up her shoulders, shivering as his touch sent tremors chasing through her. Finally she giggled. “You rat, you're doing that on purpose."
"Honest,” he said. “I'm not. It's this hook. It's an invention of the devil ... ah-h, there I've got it.” The zipper hissed down. Way down.
Before she could make her escape, he leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, then gave her little kisses between her shoulders, and down ... down ... down the valley of her spine. She gasped at the strength of the tingle that wrapped itself around her, then she whirled, holding the dress to her breasts.
He straightened, and for a moment their eyes carried messages that neither was ready to say aloud. She saw his throat move in a gulping swallow. “I think maybe you'd better get to your room now,” he said finally. “I'm not sure I need rest as much as you think I do."
She gasped for air as if she had been running, staring as him as if hypnotized. Part of her wanted to go to him, to give herself to him, to revel in the riot of emotion his kisses had caused. Part of her was afraid, the long years of living under Alex's threat had conditioned her to flee from such tender thoughts. Torn by feelings new to her, and lacking experience to help her deal with them, she stood paralyzed in front of him.
"Go, Leslie,” he said, his voice tight, “while I can still let you."
She backed slowly out of his room, almost stumbling over Miko in the hallway. Surprised, the spell broken, she caught her balance and looked down at the dog. “What are you doing up here, girl?
The dog took the hem of her dress in her teeth and began tugging her toward the stairway. Leslie asked again, “What is it, Miko?"
Richard stared intently at Miko. “What does she want?"
"She wants me downstairs. This is the way she was acting last night when you were in the ditch."
Miko suddenly released Leslie's dress and ran down the stairs to stand in front of the door, growling, the fur around her shoulders standing erect.
"No, something's wrong. She didn't growl like that last night.” Leslie reached behind her back and gave a quick pull up on her zipper. Then she hurried down the stairs, Richard clattering along behind her. She ran across the living room for her purse, opened it and pulled out a large, wicked-looking pistol. Snapping off the safety, she started for the front door.
Richard jumped nervously when Miko began to bark, filling the room with noise, and he heard the sound of feet pounding across the front porch and down the steps. Leslie fumbled with the key and the safety chain, then jerked open the front door, losing Miko with a sharp cry, “Catch, Miko."
The dog was like a dart arrowing after the shadowy figure running toward a white car parked in Leslie's drive. The figure barely managed to shut the passenger's door before Miko hurled herself against it, barking furiously and clawing at the door. An instant later, hearing the car engine start, Leslie called Miko away.
Spewing gravel, the car backed out of the driveway and began to pull away. The right window rolled down, and Richard saw several bright flashes winking from the interior of the car. He felt a tug on his shirt and behind him the front living room window shattered into shards. His face stung from splinters that showered from the wooden post a foot from his head. But there'd been almost no sound. A pistol with a silencer, he thought.
He wasn't prepared for the sound of gunfire from four feet away. He nearly jumped from his skin as Leslie fired her pistol at the car. Carefully, her feet spread and her arms extended as if she were on a target range, she tracked the car. She squeezed off one shot after another, leaning into the heavy recoil from the big pistol. Finally, the hammer clicked on empty.
Staring after the rapidly accelerating car, she lowered the pistol to her side. His ears ringing from the sound of her pistol, Richard stepped toward her, raising his arms. Her embrace was so strong as to be almost painful, and they stood silent, unmoving, locked in each others arms. Finally she drew a deep, shuddering breath, and when he loosened his arms she stood back, looking into his eyes, then spun on her heel and hurried into the house. Richard followed in time to see her eject the spent clip and slide in a new one, jack a round into the chamber and set the safety. Then she turned out all the lights, picked up the phone and tapped in 911.
"This is Leslie Carson. I'm calling from my home on Shepherdsville Road. Someone just tried to murder me, and I'll tell you who I think it was. His name is Alex Wright, my ex-husband. He just left here, heading south for Indianapolis, and he's driving a white Mercedes with several bullet holes in it that I put there just now. If you call ahead, you can be waiting for him when he shows up at home, or maybe even catch him with a road block."
Richard said, “Tell them that Wright has a silenced pistol."
Leslie nodded and relayed
the message. While she was answering the 911 dispatcher's questions, Richard went back to the front door to let Miko in. She sat on the floor in front of him, looking up at him, her tongue lolling from her mouth. He got a strong impression that she was asking, ‘How'd I do?’ He sat down on the floor and put his arms around her. “You wonderful animal,” he said. “You wonderful, wonderful creature. Thank you very much for warning us."
That's where Leslie found him. Still on an adrenaline high, she sat down on the floor beside them and put her arms around the two of them. She was still except for a little shivering she couldn't seem to control. Quiet for a moment, she began to cry, deep wrenching sobs, as she hugged them tightly. Miko whined, licking Leslie's face and pushing close to her.
Richard put his arms around Leslie, his mind full of the picture of her coolly firing at the car even as the blazing pistol sought her life. All at once he was aghast as he remembered what he'd seen—her hair flicking suddenly, as if she had caught it on something. So close, he thought. Oh, my God, so close. Dark anger washed over him—that butcher Alex Wright would have taken her away from him.
Her tears stopped after a while and she sat there, wrapped in his arms, sniffling in her sexy black dress.
He fumbled around and managed to pull the long zipper the rest of the way up. He didn't mess with the little hook. After a bit, seeking to ease the tension, he said, “You know, I've been wondering how come you have a dress like this if you never go out with anyone."
She stared at him, her face wet with tears, her mouth open, as if she couldn't understand how he could ask such an ordinary question, just as if nothing had happened.
"Well...” Her voice quavered and she sniffled again. He reached in his pocket and gave her his handkerchief. She scrubbed her face vigorously and blew her nose, then straightened her back. “I can dream, can't I?"
He nodded. “Sure."
"I have a whole closet—I call it my dream closet. It's full of nice things I knew I could never find a place to wear, dreaming that maybe, someday..."
Richard's heart swelled with tenderness at her words. “I'll have to see if I can't help you make some of those dreams come true."