Suddenly the man laughed, actually roared. “She called me ‘Pop’ and did you see her hair?”
Dani joined his laughter. “She certainly was a sight. Wait till you smell her after her bath.” They both convulsed in laughter.
Crushing out her cigarette in an onyx ashtray, Dani watched the man opposite her. The transformation when he laughed was amazing. He looked like one of the ads in the Sunday paper that depicted the aristocratic country gentleman. He certainly was a handsome brute. Remembering the feel of his lips on her own, Dani felt her pulse start to throb. Carefully schooling her face to betray nothing, she looked into the dark eyes opposite her and flushed. Somehow she felt the man was thinking the same thing she was. Go careful, Dani, she admonished herself. You can get hurt too easily. He’s from a different world, a world that you don’t belong to. He could never be seriously interested in anyone as plebian as herself. Still, in unobserved moments one could let one’s imagination run rampant. Again Dani remembered the feel of those lips on hers and wished she had the remembered feel of those strong arms to complete the picture.
“I think I better see about dinner,” Dani said quietly. “Would you care for another drink? No? Well, then if you’ll excuse me . . .” Dani walked into the huge kitchen and removed the bubbling tray from the oven. Opening the refrigerator in her muddled state, she swung the huge door too fast, causing it to slam against Alexander, who had followed her into the kitchen. Dani leaned over to grab the door and lost her balance. Alexander caught her and held her for a moment. Neither moved for a space of a second. Suddenly his arms tightened and Dani’s picture was completed. She closed her eyes; there seemed to be no will left in her body. She waited for the expected kiss. Opening her eyes and gazing into warm, brown laughing eyes, she was momentarily taken off guard by the laughter in Alex’s eyes.
The arms tightened perceptibly. “I never break my word, Miss Arnold,” the man said, mocking.
Dani sputtered, disengaging herself. She felt shaken and humiliated. Damn the man.
“Set the table,” Dani said through clenched teeth. “Your daughter will be out here in a moment.”
Alexander began to set the table with meticulous care. “I have never had to do this in order to be served a meal,” he said, smiling with his eyes into Dani’s furious face.
“Things are tough all over, Mr. Mendeneres. If you’re not careful, you’ll be doing the dishes when you’re finished.”
“Oh,” he drawled the word. “And if I do, what will be my reward?” he teased.
Dani was about to offer a squelching reply when Maria entered the kitchen, clean blue jeans and sparkling white T-shirt and hair standing on end. She looked like a porcupine. Dani, unable to contain herself, giggled, as did Maria. Not, so far, her father. He looked in outrage at his daughter.
“I’ll tar and feather the young whelp,” he roared.
“Oh, Pop, cut it out,” Maria giggled. “Dani can fix my hair. She can do anything,” she said magnanimously.
“She can, can she?” Alexander roared.
Dani stood back and reveled in the man’s discomfort. This was her moment and she intended to savor it.
“Kelly’s father doesn’t get upset over things like this,” the child muttered. “Neither does Danny’s father, and Tony’s father says it is all part of growing up. I adore their fathers, and they like me. They said when I leave here, I will be as American as apple pie and hot dogs. You are outdated, Papa,” Maria said defiantly.
“Outdated?” Alexander roared. “Outdated, am I?”
“Yes,” Maria said in a shaking voice. “Is it not so, Dani? He does not act like the other fathers.”
Dani made a very obvious square with her two hands. “Very definitely,” she said seriously, watching the fury and the indignation show across the aristocratic countenance. “However, Maria, I did tell you that when you return to Argentina you would have to revert to your old ways. This is a case of when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Your father, unfortunately, does not do things the way most Americans do. And,” she said viciously, “that covers other things as well.” Dani saw by the flush in the man’s face that she had scored. She went one step further. “Most American men,” she said, her eyes on Alexander Mendeneres, “are not quite so mockingly gallant.”
Alexander Mendeneres looked at the irate girl and said softly, “Touché, Miss Arnold. The next time I will not keep my word like the gentleman I am.”
Dani flushed a rosy pink and started to toss the salad.
“Dani, can I be excused from dinner? I want to go punk picking with the boys. I can take a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with me.”
Suddenly, there was a clatter on the back porch. Three faces peered through the screen door. “Can you go?” Kelly yelled.
“Can I, Dani?”
Dani pondered the question. If she gave the child permission, she would be alone with Alex. If the child stayed, it would definitely be a strain to force herself to be polite for her sake. “Yes, you can go. Did you boys eat?”
“No,” Kelly answered, “but my mother said she will make us some hot dogs when we come back.”
“All right. Maria can go,” Dani said.
“Ah . . . Miss Arnold . . . can Maria smoke the punks?”
“Sure. What’s the sense of going punk picking unless she can smoke them?” Dani answered as she saw the fury mount in Alexander’s eyes.
“Remember, Kelly. Home before eight and watch out for her.”
“OK, Miss Arnold. Come on, squirt. Let’s go.” Maria marched out the door happily. Dani heard the boys compliment her on her new hairdo. Kelly said she looked like a skinned rat. Tony proclaimed that she looked better than his dog, Duke. Danny said now she wouldn’t have to comb her hair for weeks. Maria, in her element, thanked them profusely. Alexander Mendeneres looked as though he were on the verge of an epileptic fit.
“Could I get you an Alka-Seltzer, Mr. Mendeneres?” Dani asked sweetly.
“Did you hear how they spoke to my daughter?” he choked. “And what is this that you say she can smoke? I won’t have it. Do you hear me?” he said, pounding his fist on the table.
“Really? What won’t you have? First of all, since you don’t have the faintest idea of what smoking a punk entails, why are you interfering? Do you think I would let the child smoke? All they do is light the tip of the punk and it smokes. I grew up around here, Mr. Mendeneres, and that is one of the kids’ greatest pastimes. As for the boys’ compliments on your daughter’s hair, they were only being honest. She does look like a skinny rat. She does look better than Tony’s dog and true, if need be, the child won’t have to comb her hair for a week. Now tell me what is so terrible? Well, I’m waiting, Mr. Mendeneres. Don’t tell me that the cat has got your tongue. Usually you are quite articulate.”
Dani set the tray on the table with a loud thump. She walked over to the salad, but she was suddenly pinned again in those familiar, strong arms. Gently, she was turned till she faced him. Dani raised cold, defiant eyes to meet the burning Latin ones of the man who held her. She felt tears smart her eyes as she continued to gaze into the dark pupils of the man. The arms tightened and she felt warm lips once more on her own. Suddenly, with the strength of his arms around her, she felt wanted, desired. Dani returned his kiss with every fiber of her body, answering in a language of its own, a language of love. For Dani now knew the meaning of that elusive emotion and she reveled in her newfound knowledge. Time was meaningless. Finally he broke away, much to Dani’s regret. He held her at arm’s length and smiled.
“Forgive me; I had no right to kiss you. I am a married man. For a moment, I forgot.” The dark eyes were racked with pain. “If things were different, perhaps . . . Your lovely dinner is already cold.” Once more his eyes took on the aloof quality that Dani had noticed before. Following his lead, she sat down on the chair he held out for her. Dinner was a quiet affair. They left the dishes on the table and retired to the living room to await Maria. Dani fixed drinks an
d they sat opposite each other on the love seats flanking the fireplace. Dani felt cold and shivered involuntarily. Alexander noticed the chill and quickly offered to light the fire.
“Hi, everybody,” Maria cried happily. “Boy, am I pooped. I have to go to bed early. Kelly is taking me fishing at six-thirty. Good night, Dani, good night, Pop,” she said, grabbing him in a bear hug and kissing him soundly.
“See ya,” she yawned.
Dani smiled at the child’s retreating back and moved her eyes to the man lighting the fire and knew that he was all she could ever want in life. Him and the child that she had grown to love. Even that would be ripped away from her when it was time for them to leave. Feeling like part of her body was slowly dying, she chided herself—no self-pity. There was always Bismarck.
Her eyes bright with tears, she spoke to the man.
“You must tell me of Argentina.”
Dani watched Alex’s broad back as he bent toward the hearth to light the kindling. He sat effortlessly on the floor, one arm draped over his knee as he seemingly concentrated on the glowing embers, as little by little the kindling sparks jumped and ignited the waiting logs until they burst into a dazzling, dancing fire.
Like me, Dani thought, waiting for his touch, so I can feel alive. Her glance strayed to the broad yet graceful hand on his knee, and the desire to feel that hand in her hair and touching her neck welled within her.
Sensing the draw of her emotions, Alex turned and Dani felt a hot flash as his eyes swept over her. She held her breath as he came and sat beside her and silently took her into the folds of his embrace. Wordlessly, they understood, and each savored the close moment for what it was, each knowing the futility. Dani raised her eyes to his, catching a sob in her throat as she felt the impact of the sadness of his eyes. Her self-pitying thoughts were blown away and in their place came a resolute longing to ease his pain, to cradle his head against her breasts.
With a low moan, his lips came crashing down upon hers and she invited their warm pressure. When he drew away from her, she felt a vast loss and he saw this in her eyes.
“Querida,” he whispered softly, “come closer to the fire, where you’ll be warm.” He motioned her to a place on the rug before the now blazing fire and sat down a little distance from her where, she knew, he would not be tempted to take her into his arms.
“Remember I told you of a family relic which Valerie brought here to the States?” Dani noticed his upper lip curl almost indiscernibly—each time he mentioned his wife’s name. Inwardly, she felt a small triumph. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes, Alex, I remember.”
“This religious article is not your usual sort, where superstition is the embodiment of its value. Listen carefully, querida; the story I am telling you is long and intricate, and it is important to me that you understand.”
Listening to his deep, resonant voice, Dani found herself incredulous at the implications his tale wove for her.
“For five hundred years, my family has been guardian to the ‘Future Scrolls,’ and now the duty has fallen to me.” His face displayed the seriousness with which he considered his duty. “The secret has always been passed on to the oldest son when he reaches the age of fifteen. On the birth of the first son, the secret is entrusted to the child’s mother so that in the event something unforeseen should happen to the heir, the secret will not die with him.
“My mother raised me with a belief in duty and a responsibility to the scrolls. When I came to college in the States, I was so enamored with Valerie’s beauty I was blind to her perfidious shallowness. Her whole life has been a sham and in a great way I’ve been much to blame. She had not the character with which I, at first, credited her. Life in Argentina was dull, with none of the excitement and color which Valerie demands.
“Maria’s grandmother saw through Valerie at once and was greatly troubled, although to her credit she never by word or deed made her sentiments evident to me. In all truth, I don’t believe I would have listened.
“When Maria was born I was confused. You see, Cara, the firstborn to the heir of the secret has always been a son. I suppose I made much of having a son before Maria was born and Valerie, sensing my confusion when I was told the child was a girl, mistook it for disappointment. Her frustration was multiplied when she was told she would never have another child.”
Dani saw his eyes cloud and noticed the cleft in his chin darken and appear deeper. She knew what agony it must be for a man of Alex’s reticence to tell her these things.
“I was disappointed at first, but I always loved Maria. Who could help doing so.” His face brightened. “From the first, she was a remarkable child, precocious and endearing. Later, much later, when discussing this with my mother, she said that when Maria was born it was her belief that the secret of the scrolls would come to light during my lifetime, hence the break in the male lineage. It seems, querida, Maria’s grandmother was correct in her assumptions. Waiting for me in Argentina is a letter from the Pope. I feel I can safely assume that the time has arrived when the burden will be lifted from my shoulders.”
“Alex, if the mother is only told on the birth of a son, how did Valerie come to learn of the scrolls?”
The corners of Alex’s handsome mouth turned downward. “Among Valerie’s adroit attributes, eavesdropping is very high on the list. From what I can gather, Valerie overheard a conversation between my mother and myself. By this time, she had built up an overwhelming animosity toward me, an animosity which spilled over onto Maria. Discovering the shared secret between my mother and myself enraged her. She felt left out, discriminated against. Like a snake shedding its skin, Valerie changed; her hatred of me surfaced and I later discovered how long she plotted to learn the whereabouts of the scrolls. I truly believe, querida, she did not steal them with the intent of a pecuniary gain; it was revenge against me, the Mendeneres heritage, and her own incapacity to be a part of it. It was her stepbrother who, when she told him of her discovery, enticed her to bring them to New York and peddle them as an objet d’art to the highest bidder, as though they were a souvenir from a tawdry carnival.”
“Alex, how could she have gotten the scrolls through customs?”
“That is where the secret was to her gain. No one would suspect that some writing in church Latin would be of any value. Besides, Valerie was equipped with the story that the scrolls were a gift from our family to a church here in the States.”
“If the scrolls are as unimpressive as you say, Alex, could Valerie sell them, too? The secret has been so well guarded, surely she could not convince someone to pay an enormous sum of money for a relic that hasn’t been authenticated!”
“You surprise me, Dani; you are very quick. I neglected to tell you that the scrolls contain illuminated drawings. Brother Gian was an artist of great talent. Even Valerie could recognize the beauty of the illuminations with which he began the principal part of each scroll.”
“Alex, are you saying you’ve read the scrolls? You’ve actually seen them and studied them?”
“Never! They are in old church Latin and the artistry is intricate. They would take a great deal of time to study. I am saying my father showed me the scrolls when I was fifteen and pointed out the magnificent illuminations which they bear. Immediately afterward, he replaced them in their pitch-lined urn and resealed it with wax, the exact manner in which the first Mendeneres brought them to Argentina.
“I hope you understand why I must do everything in my power to regain possession of the scrolls. As I mentioned, there is a letter from Rome awaiting me in Argentina. My country is more in need than ever before of the renewed faith which the scrolls can instill in my people. They are suppressed religiously by the political regime and many have lost their fervor and faith.”
“That fact is true almost everywhere, Alex, not only in your country. I believe that’s the reason today’s youth are seeking these new religions and practicing them fanatically. They’re searching, Alex, to find something to fill the
emptiness within themselves.”
“Yes, querida, and perhaps the Holy Father sees this the way you do. Dani, the scrolls are not only for Catholics, they are for mankind, and, I believe, to give us hope for the future.”
Both were immersed in deep thought. With the chime of the clock on the mantel, Alexander rose to his feet. “I must leave you now, Dani. It is late. I’m being selfish to keep you from your rest,” he added with the first smile Dani had seen on his face in hours. “You’ll need all your strength to cope with my lively Maria.”
At the door Dani cautioned Alex to button his coat against the chill of the night. “Your concern touches me, Dani,” he said hoarsely. The warm Latin voice compelled Dani to caress his cheek gently. She closed her eyes against the pain and longed to be mirrored in his. He brought his lips to hers and let them linger there. Before she opened her eyes again, he was gone into the velvety night.
Ten
Where had the morning gone? Dani glanced at the Gucci watch on her slender wrist: twelvethirty. The phone shrilled, startling her. Reaching out for the receiver before it could ring a second time, Dani managed to trip over Bismarck and bruise her shin all at the same time. The receiver cradled on her shoulder, she gasped, “Hello.”
“Dani, this is Stash. Now look, don’t get alarmed but someone ransacked your apartment. I went up there today like I said I would and the place was a shambles. I did the best I could, but you know me. Two left feet and two left hands. I want to know if there was anything valuable you left behind and how will I know if there is something missing?”
“Stash, you aren’t joking, are you?” Dani asked in alarm.
“Would I joke about a thing like that? Come on, Dani; you know me better than that. Listen, are you in some kind of trouble? Does it have something to do with the kid? If so, tell me and maybe I can help. That’s what friends are for, you know.”
For five seconds, Dani debated whether she should tell him or not. A vision of an angry darkeyed Latin invaded her thoughts and helped her make a rapid decision.
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