by Peggy Webb
She wondered if civilization got in the way of relationships. Was it possible that civilized trappings stifled love and romance and caring? Was it possible that love could not grow unless people forgot rules and codes of behavior and returned to primitive emotions?
o0o
She was still pondering these things when Ruth Ann led Gigi off to prepare her for bed.
Ellen went to her office to bring her notes up-to- date. Her mind kept wandering back to Dirk, and she finally threw her pen down in disgust. The ringing of the telephone was a welcome interruption.
"Hi. It's me," Rachelle said. Ellen smiled. Rachelle always identified herself that way. "How was the trip?"
"Fine."
"Fine? Fine! You return from a romantic weekend with a Tom Selleck look-alike and all you can say is fine?"
"Who told you?"
"You did," Rachelle said. "Before you left. While you could still drool and palpitate. Tell me everything."
"Aunt Lollie and Uncle Vester are still two wonderful lovebirds. They're as timeless as Beech Mountain. Glenda is still the family failure for having married beneath herself. Aunt Fronie still makes a great chocolate cream pie. ..."
"What about Dirk? What did your family think of him?"
"He passed muster with flying colors."
"What did you think of him?"
The question caught Ellen off-guard. She shouldn't have been surprised, she reminded herself. Rachelle had been monitoring her love life—or lack of one—for the last five years. "It doesn't matter what I think of him. Besides, I don't even know what he does for a living."
"Good grief. You're off with a movie star and all you can think about is his job? Check out the body first, and then worry about the job." Rachelle giggled. "If you ever get around to it."
"That's one of the things I love about you, Rachelle. You don't let mundane things like jobs worry you. You live in a fantasy world."
"Yeah. It's filled with fabulous faces and great bods."
Ruth Ann appeared at the doorway. "Gigi won't go to bed," she said.
Ellen covered the mouthpiece. "I’ll be right with you," she told her assistant. To Rachelle she said, "Duty calls. Can you leave your shop long enough to come up tomorrow for lunch? We can talk."
"Can do. See you tomorrow."
Ellen replaced the phone and walked through the compound to take care of Gigi's problem.
o0o
"What would we do without frozen croissants?" Ellen said. She pushed her plate away and reached for her glass of iced tea. A breeze stirred the branches of a pine tree overhead, and a couple of cardinals hopped close to the picnic table, hoping to catch a fallen crumb.
Rachelle took a bite of her croissant and leaned across the redwood table. "I didn't come all the way up Beech Mountain to get a Julia Child lecture. Tell me about Dirk. I want to know everything that happened in Lawrenceburg."
"Nothing happened."
"Why do I get the feeling that you're holding back?" Rachelle studied her friend's face. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say that you were smitten."
"Smitten?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Doctor. Smitten as in head-over-heels, crazy, mooney-eyed. In love, for gosh sakes!"
Ellen marveled at how close her friend was to the truth. "If you're talking about Dirk ..."
"Did I hear someone call my name?" Dirk walked out of the forest and into the clearing.
Ellen thought she would die on the spot. She had forgotten how impossibly handsome he was and how her heart wouldn't behave when he was around and how her bones turned to maple syrup. Why did he have to lean against the table with those fabulous hips? Why couldn't he stand over there on the edge of the woods so she wouldn't notice his chest gleaming through that half- buttoned shirt?
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Rachelle's voice brought her back to reality.
"Rachelle Durante. Dirk—" Ellen hesitated, not knowing what to call him.
"Just call me Dirk," he said smoothly. He gave Rachelle a dazzling smile. "You must be the one who arranged for Nate."
Rachelle tossed her blond head and laughed. "I’ll have to admit that Ellen did better on her own. Maybe you can tell me about the reunion. I can't get a thing out of the good doctor."
"Uncle Vester and Aunt Lollie are two of the finest people I've ever met," he said.
Rachelle rolled her eyes. "Here we go again."
"She doesn't want a report," Ellen explained. "She wants fantasy." For the first time she noticed the bouquet of wild flowers in his hand. "Why are you here?"
"I was out walking and saw these flowers. They reminded me of Gigi, so I decided to come by and see her. Is that possible?"
Ellen didn't know what she had expected him to say or why she felt a twinge of disappointment. "I'm glad you came back. For Gigi's sake," she added hastily. "It's good for her to know that friends can come and go."
"Then I'll go up to the compound," he said. "Don't bother to get up. Ruth Ann can let me in." He inclined his head toward Rachelle and smiled again. "It was nice meeting you, Rachelle."
Ellen forced herself not to turn around and watch him walk toward the compound. She forced herself to drink her tea as if her heart weren't doing a tap dance against her rib cage.
"Well, what do you know about that!" Rachelle said as soon as Dirk was out of earshot.
"About what?"
"Where is he staying? I didn't think there was anything up here except this compound and Anthony's cabin."
"That's where he's staying. Anthony's cabin."
"Well, what do you know about that!" Rachelle said again.
"Why do you keep saying that? For goodness' sakes, drink your tea and get that expression off your face."
Rachelle playfully pretended to wipe the expression off her face. "There. Is that better? Don't tell me that man was out walking and just happened to come three miles out of his way to deliver flowers. To Gigi yet!"
"There's nothing unusual about that. He happens to like Gigi. He has a great capacity for caring." If anyone had told Ellen how her eyes sparkled when she defended Dirk, she wouldn't have believed them.
"I'm sure he does," Rachelle agreed. "And from the way he fit into those jeans, I'd say he has a great capacity for something else too. Lucky you." She sighed lustily.
Ellen didn't even hear her. She was too busy thinking about that endearing little-boy look on Dirk's face and the wilted bouquet of wild flowers in his hand.
Chapter Seven
After Rachelle had gone, Ellen hurried back to the compound. As she passed the pine tree that marked the edge of the fenced-in area, she told herself that her haste was due to the work that needed to be done. A persistent picture of Dirk and his bouquet kept flitting through her mind, and by the time she reached the patch of goldenrod, she knew that she had been lying to herself. Dirk was the reason for her hurry.
Ruth Ann looked up as Ellen burst through the front door. "I see that you already know he's here," she said.
"How did you know?"
"You look like you've been in a footrace."
Ellen hastily repinned her loose topknot and put her hands to her flushed cheeks. Was she that transparent?
"I have to reorganize my notes."
She started to walk briskly to her desk, then changed her mind. What was the matter with her? . She didn't need excuses for her - actions. Who did she think she was fooling anyhow? Certainly not Ruth Ann. She stopped in midstride.
"Where is he?"
"I thought you'd never ask." The starchy old scientist almost smiled. "He's in the dayroom with Gigi, drawing pictures."
Ellen whirled through the door and hastened down the hall. She stopped outside the dayroom door to smooth her white lab jacket and catch her breath. It would never do for Dirk to see her eagerness. As skittish as he was about things such as involvement and commitment, he would probably run all the way back to Paris or Connecticut or wherever he had come from.
She stepped into the room and
stood quietly, observing the two artists. Drooping wild flowers were tucked behind Gigi's ears, and her head was cocked to one side as she studied Dirk's painting.
"What do you think, Gigi?" Dirk asked.
Gigi put her tongue between her lips and made a sound of disgust. "Bleah!"
"Is that an unbiased opinion, or do you have something against still lifes?" he asked.
"Bleah!" Gigi said.
"She fancies herself quite an art critic," Ellen said. She walked toward them, smiling. "You should hear what she says about my paintings."
Ellen wondered if she dreamed the amber light that leaped into his black eyes. Feigning nonchalance, she lifted Gigi's painting from the easel. The abstract drawing, done in red, faintly resembled a heart.
"Good, Gigi," she said while signing. "Tell Ellen picture name."
Love, signed Gigi.
Ellen taped the painting onto the wall and put a clean sheet of paper on the easel. "Gigi paint again." She turned to Dirk as Gigi carefully selected a yellow paint pen from the box. "I'm always amazed when Gigi paints," she told Dirk.
What she wanted to say was I've missed you. She pointed to a picture done in black. "She calls this one Hate." What she wanted to say was Hold me.
Dirk walked over to her so that he could examine Gigi's artwork. Ellen drew a shaky breath as his shoulder touched hers.
"Incredible," he said. But he wasn't talking about the paintings. He was marveling once again at the way Dr. Ellen Stanford could make him feel vulnerable.
"This one," Ellen said, pointing to a black and white painting, "is a picture of her pet cat." She wondered if she could make the tour last forever.
Dirk moved closer to her, ostensibly to get a better view of the painting. "I didn't know she had a cat." What he wanted to say was I can never forget the fragrance of your hair.
"She calls him Spot." The minute she turned to look at him, Ellen knew she'd made a mistake. There he was: the fake fiancé who had somehow managed to become real, the artful deceiver who had worked his way into her heart. "Dirk." The softly spoken word was almost a plea as she put her hand on his arm.
His carefully built barriers began to topple as he gazed into her face. "Ellen." It was almost a sigh. He lowered his head, irresistibly drawn to her lips.
Like the touch of a butterfly, his lips brushed hers. Sweet, so sweet, he thought as he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close enough to feel the hammering of her heart. Her lips parted beneath his, and for a few precious moments he drank the forbidden nectar. The light fragrance of her hair, the feel of her body next to his, the taste and texture of her mouth—all settled into his heart and became a part of him.
And then, one by one, he put the barriers back in place. Before the passion of her lips could drug him into a false sense of security, before the urgent message of her body could make him believe that love was for him, he ended the kiss.
"Ellen!" His voice was broken, and he held her fiercely to him before letting her go. Forbidden, his mind warned him. Love is danger; love is vulnerability; love is risk. At last he dropped his arms. "Good-bye, Dr. Ellen Stanford."
"Stay," she said as he turned to walk away.
"I can't." He smiled sadly at her over his shoulder. "I should never have come back."
"But you did."
"Yes. I did."
"Not just to see Gigi."
"No. I lied about that."
"There seems to be a lot of lies between us."
"Too many, Ellen." Turning away, he put his hand on the doorknob and stood there, hesitating, hoping that she would call to him again. But there was no sound from the room except the scratching of Gigi's paint pens. He walked through the door and closed it soundlessly behind him. Don't look back, he said to himself as he walked down the empty hallway and into the real world.
Ellen looked at the closed door. "I won't cry!" she said aloud. Squaring her shoulders she walked to the easel to examine Gigi's painting. "He keeps doing me favors," she muttered. "I should be writing him thank-you notes."
She wondered wryly if she were going to become one of those absent- minded scientists who mumbled to herself all the time.
Telling herself that she was well rid of Dirk, she concentrated on recording Gigi's day. But from time to time she reached up and touched her lips.
o0o
The minute Ellen woke up, she knew that something was wrong. She lay in bed, listening. The compound was quiet—too quiet. She slipped into her robe and grabbed a flashlight from her bedside table. Tiptoeing down the hall, she peeked into Ruth Ann's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see her assistant curled into a tight ball in the middle of her bed, snoring peacefully.
Ellen hurried through the double doors that led to Gigi's sleeping quarters. In the summertime the gorilla preferred sleeping outside. She peered frantically ahead, trying to make out Gigi's sleeping form in the predawn gloom. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light they confirmed what she instinctively knew: Gigi was not there.
"Gigi," Ellen called, knowing that there would be no answer. She went through the gate and turned her flashlight beam on the gorilla's pallet. Her covers had not been moved. They were neatly folded inside the gazebo that served as Gigi's nest.
Ellen knelt on the planked floor and examined the covers. Gigi's favorite quilt, the one with the gingham dog and the calico cat, was missing. Forcing herself not to panic, she walked around the edge of the fence, looking for possible means of escape. It didn't take long to find. One section of the heavy chain-link fence sagged dramatically where the two-hundred-pound gorilla had climbed over.
Ellen's feet practically flew over the ground as she ran back into the main building. "Ruth Ann," she shouted, "wake up. Gigi's gone." She had already stripped off her nightgown and stepped into her shorts when her assistant rushed into the room.
"How did she get out?" Ruth Ann asked. Although she looked like a sleepy, disheveled owl without her glasses, she was fully awake.
"She climbed over the fence," Ellen said as she hastily pulled on a thin cotton blouse.
"She's never done that before."
"I know." Ellen grabbed a flight bag off the top shelf of her closet and threw a first-aid kit inside. "She's close to the mating age. She's probably just prowling in the woods." Suddenly she stood very still. "Oh, no," she said almost to herself.
"What is it?" Ruth Ann asked.
"I think I know where she is."
"I'm not sure I want to hear this."
"You remember how dejected she was after Dirk brought the bouquet and left without telling her good-bye?"
Ruth Ann made new lines in her already severe face as she tightened her mouth. "Yes."
"And you know how she adores riding. Well, I took her for a ride. When we passed Tony's cabin, I pointed it out to her and told her that Dirk was staying there." She shook her head in self-disgust and jerked the zipper of her bag shut. "I never dreamed she would do this."
"Maybe she's just playing games with us. You know how she loves games."
"You don't believe that any more than I do." Ellen glanced out the window. "It's almost dawn now. As soon as it's light enough, make a circuit around the edge of the compound." She tried to sound optimistic as she spoke to her assistant. "Just in case she is playing games."
"Right." Ruth Ann pretended to believe in that possibility. "You're going to Anthony Salinger's cabin." It was a statement more than a question. "Pity he doesn't have a telephone."
"Yes. I'm going to walk in case Gigi doesn't have much of a head start. As soon as you've checked the perimeter of the compound, come inside and wait. It's too soon to panic. And we won't call reinforcements unless it's absolutely necessary. We don't want to spook Gigi."
"I knew he was trouble the minute I laid eyes on him."
Ellen ignored that remark. "I'm going to the kitchen to get some food. Wait until it's light, Ruth Ann, and be careful. If Gigi's there, I’ll get Dirk to bring us back in his car."
"Be careful yourself. And I'm not just talking about the woods."
Ellen ignored that remark too. Taking her flashlight and her flight bag, she headed for the kitchen. She quickly chucked some bananas and granola bars into the bag and stepped outside. The first pale columns of light were filtering through the dense forest, and the branches of the trees were still heavy with dew.
Ellen entered the forest without fear. Beech Mountain had been her home for so long, she was familiar with every tree and rock within a five-mile radius of the compound. If Gigi hadn't been missing. she would have enjoyed her exploration of the woods.
She thought the hour of dawn was the most tranquil of all. Nature's daytime creatures were stirring, celebrating the new day with jubilant calls, and her nighttime creatures were scurrying through the forest, seeking their various holes and burrows of rest.
Ellen used her flashlight in the dense forest, turning the beam on probable hiding places and calling Gigi's name. She scared up a rabbit and a family of wrens, but there was no sign of the gorilla. The forest floor was cushioned with compost—fallen trees and leaves from other seasons—so that, even if she had been an experienced tracker, finding signs of the gorilla's route would have been difficult.
Ellen estimated that she was at least a mile from the compound when she sat down on a fallen tree trunk to eat a granola bar. She could see shafts of gold through the treetops, but the branches were too thick to allow the sunshine to touch the forest floor. She hurriedly ate her makeshift breakfast and then resumed her search, leaving the crumbs for a pair of bluejays.
The trees began to thin as she came closer to Anthony Salinger's cabin. A bramble snagged her shirt, and as she stopped to loose herself she noticed a pink thread caught in the bush. Gigi's quilt, she thought. She walked faster, certain now that she knew where to find her runaway gorilla.
The dew was still on the grass when Ellen burst into the clearing beside Anthony's summer place. "Gigi," she called. A large, dark bundle on the front porch stirred.