by Joan Hohl
By Sunday morning, Andrea had dismissed her disturbing discussion with Paul from her mind. She was already missing her aunt, and Celia had only been away from the house one night.
But Celia was back at the house again by midmorning on Sunday, checking to make certain she hadn’t overlooked anything. Over coffee, she went through her itinerary with Andrea ... for at least the fifth time.
The plan was for Celia and Blaine to fly to New York that evening. After a few days of sight-seeing, they would fly on to London for more sight-seeing. From London, the couple would cross the English Channel to France, After a week in Paris, they were booked on a cruise liner bound for the Mediterranean.
Since the farthest she had ever traveled was her flight from Pennsylvania to California, Andrea thought Celia and Elaine’s plans sounded exciting.
But the flurry of activity and excitement was over, leaving Andrea feeling deflated and let down after she and Paul waved the couple on their way at the airport.
“You’re very quiet,” Paul observed after a nearly silent drive back to the house. “Are you tired?”
“Yes.” Andrea sighed, then laughed at herself. “I suppose I’m feeling a little let down now that all the excitement is over,”
“Ah, but, my Andrea,” Paul said softly as he pulled the car into the driveway, “is the excitement over?”
That night and every night for the next two weeks, they made glorious love, not on a bed of grass, but in Andrea’s bed of brass.
A week after the wedding, Andrea received an invitation to the opening of her friend Karla’s art gallery in Sedona, Arizona. Memories assailed her as she read the note Karla had written on the bottom of the embossed card.
“Dear Andrea,” Karla wrote. “Do you miss Alycia and me as much as I miss you and Alycia?” She then went on in her practical way: “Although I know you probably won’t be able to make it to my grand opening, I’ll be thinking of you and wishing you could share it with me.”
Tears misted Andrea’s eyes as she scanned the note a second time, and she was swamped by a longing to see her friends. On the spot Andrea decided that she would make it to Karla’s opening, even if she had to scrape the bottom of her bank account to pay the air fare.
The following Saturday afternoon, Andrea was staring out the window at the dreary rain-spattered day when the phone rang. They day brightened when she hear the voice of her caller.
“Alycia! Where are you? How are you? How is Sean?” she asked in a rush.
“Andrea, it’s so good to hear your voice.” Alycia laughed. “I’m in New York. Sean and I are both fine.” She hesitated a moment, then went on, “And I’m calling to tell you that, whether you had planned to or not, you’re going to be at Karla’s opening next week.”
“I am?” Andrea laughed. “Well, as a matter of fact I am! I mean, I was planning to be there.”
“Have you made your flight arrangements yet?” Alycia asked.
“No,” Andrea said. “I was going to do that on Monday.”
“Well, don’t,” Alycia ordered. “Sean will take care of everything from here.”
“Why?”
“Oh, didn’t you know?” Alycia asked seriously. “Sean has a great travel agent. He books us into Florida in August and Alaska in January!”
Andrea laughed . . . with tears in her eyes. It was so wonderful to hear Alycia’s banter again. “If you get really lucky, that agent might be able to book you onto the first flight to a friendly planet,” Andrea responded.
“Naw.” Alycia came back. “This guy doesn’t know any friendly people, never mind friendly aliens.”
“Too bad,” Andrea sympathized. “It might be fun, and it couldn’t be dull.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll stick to the earth, thank you” Alycia retorted. “You’re the space nut.”
“Was,” Andrea said on a sigh.
“Hey, Andrea, there’s time,” Alycia chided gently. “Don’t give up hope on NASA.”
“I kinda have,” Andrea told her. “I’m back in school, doing my postgraduate thing. What have you been up to?”
“Doing my history thing,” Alycia said. “I’m helping Sean research his latest tome.”
“You sound happy,” Andrea said softly.
“I am happy,” Alycia replied. “But I miss my former partners in idiocy sometimes.”
“So do I,” Andrea admitted.
“So, we’ll be together next week,” Alycia said. “Don’t buy a ticket, but do expect to hear from the airline confirming your flight. Sean will take care of everything. Okay?”
Her eyes misting with memories of Sean taking care of several dinners at the apartment she and Karla and Alycia had shared, Andrea surrendered and answered, “Okay.”
Andrea continued to hold the receiver in her hand for a few seconds after saying a reluctant good-bye to her friend—as if, by not cradling the receiver she could maintain the connection to Alycia just a little longer. Her smile was rueful as she returned to stand at the living room window after finally replacing the receiver.
The window faced southwest, affording a panoramic view of the coastline and the Pacific Ocean. Andrea didn’t see the view, or the rain, or the dark clouds hanging over the ocean for, though she was staring out through the window, she was looking inward, at her self.
The view inside was every bit as murky as the scene beyond the window. Like the day, which was heavy with atmospheric pressure, Andrea felt weighted with the pressure of sadness and doubt... a lot of doubt.
She was alone. Again.
Feeling the emptiness of the house and of her life closing in around her, Andrea sighed and pressed her forehead to the cool windowpane.
Although she saw Paul every weekday in class, had dinner with him most evenings, and slept with him every night, Andrea knew that she was basically alone.
Her aloneness was by no means new or unusual. It was like a familiar but undesirable companion. That companion had moved in with her at a very early age, and while she stood helplessly by as others she loved left her, the unwanted companion remained.
Although Andrea, as a child, had given her love openly and joyfully, she had grown more restrained as each loved one deserted her. Her father had been the first to leave her, and though he’d had no choice about leaving, Andrea, being very young, had felt that he left because of some fault in her. Her mother had been the next in line, deserting Andrea for the love of a man. Then Zach had left her for another woman, and it was after Zach’s desertion that Andrea began to close in on herself.
And there were others, not actually deserters, but followers of their own dreams and pursuits. Alycia, Karla, Celia, and even Melly were all now, in effect, gone from Andrea’s life.
Andrea was alone. Again.
And she was in love with Paul.
Ever since she had cried the words of love to him that Sunday afternoon in the clearing, Andrea had repeatedly asked herself if her declaration had been a spontaneous response to the shattering experience she had shared with him or if, in fact, she was in love with him. After hours of examining her feelings, emotions, and rational mind, she had reached the conclusion that she did love Paul, that she was in love with him.
In truth, Andrea loved almost everything about Paul. She loved his incredible male beauty, she loved the mysterious depth of his blue eyes, she loved his soft voice and tender smile, she loved his compassion and tolerance, his inner strength and his outward understanding. She even loved the way in which he was different from other men. But most of all, she loved talking with him, laughing with him, making love with him.
Oh, yes, Andrea thought, brushing a film of moisture from her eyes. She did indeed love Paul. But Andrea found no joy in the acknowledgment.
Within Andrea’s only frame of reference, she equated the word “love” with disillusionment, pain, and eventual, inevitable betrayal. And she knew, had learned the painful way, that it was infinitely safer not to give her love, but instead to hide it away within the confines of her al
oneness.
The unmistakable purr of Paul’s fantastic car pulling into the driveway drew Andrea out of her inner, secret hiding place.
How strange, she mused, turning away from the window and donning a smile for her lover. How strange that she, who had looked forward with such eagerness and high hopes to the possibility of future space travel, had so few hopes for her own future.
“You’re withdrawing inside yourself again, my Andrea.” Paul made the observation the instant he saw her face ... or her eyes. “You are deliberately distancing yourself from me... from us.”
Andrea forced a laugh ... It sounded forced. Compensating, she shrugged. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?” he asked, crossing the room to her.
“Alycia called a little while ago. She and Sean are going to Karla’s grand opening.” Andrea didn’t need to explain further; she had told Paul all about her friends during their weeks of getting to know each other.
“Then why are you sad?” Paul asked, tapping in as usual to her emotional state.
“I’m not sad,” Andrea lied. “I’m just... contemplative.”
The expression in his eyes told her he knew she was lying to him. His sigh, followed by the gentle smile that curved his mouth, told her he would not challenge her... at least not for the moment.
Paul was especially gentle with her during the days remaining before Andrea was to leave for Arizona, and he was especially passionate during the nights.
“Shall we walk awhile?” he asked after class the day before she was to leave.
Andrea answered silently by slipping her hand into his and falling into step with his long, easy stride. She wasn’t surprised when he headed for the copse of pine trees. Though he would spend the night in her bed and drive her to the airport in the morning, inside her mind, there but unformed, Andrea knew he was taking her to their special place, where they could say good-bye in private.
The early November afternoon was mild. A crisp breeze carried the scent of fall, stirring memories in Andrea of the beautiful autumns in her home in Pennsylvania.
A feeling of melancholy settled over Andrea, and when they arrived at the clearing, a sad smile curved her lips as she looked around her. Over a year had passed since she had first seen the clearing in her dreams. Now it seemed to have happened long ago, and to another person.
“Come, my heart,” Paul said softly. “It’s time to go home.”
Her shoulders drooping with dejection, Andrea moved automatically when Paul tugged on her hand. But instead of turning back toward the campus, he followed the path away from the clearing.
Uneasiness began to unfurl inside Andrea. She raised her head and glanced around with narrowed, alert eyes. “Where are we going?” she asked, knowing the answer.
“Home,” Paul replied simply.
Inside her mind, Andrea was envisioning a dream in which she had walked along this same path. In the dream she’d felt happy, content. But this was not a dream, she reminded herself. And she was not feeling happy ... She was feeling frightened and reluctant to go on. The beginnings of panic crawled up her nerves toward her throat as she and Paul drew near a bend in the path. The scent of the sea was pervasive. A seabird sounded its mournful cry. Her dream thoughts spun out of control in her mind.
She was almost there.
She was almost home.
Everything that had happened to her, every unusual incident, pulsed in brilliant flashes through her memory.
The first time she had seen Paul through the window of the coffee shop.
Her dream lover telling her that she had nothing to fear from Paul Hellka.
The incredible experience she’d had with Paul on the beach before discovering that he swam with sharks.
Paul’s uncanny ability to read her mind.
Paul telling her that in his father’s homeland they did not eat flesh.
Paul’s display of strength that appeared to be beyond human possibility.
Melly’s observation: Maybe the man’s not human.
“No!” Andrea cried aloud, coming to a dead stop on the bend in the path.
“Andrea.” Paul’s soft voice held no censure, no reproof, only an unspoken plea for her trust.
All the confusion and fear she had pushed to the farthest reaches of her mind came storming back into her consciousness. And in exactly the same way she had done on the day he first took her to the clearing, Andrea stared at him and cried out the same questions... only this time she changed one word of the second query.
“Who are you? What are you?”
“I am your love,” Paul answered. “For always and forever. I have been since the day you were created.”
Too much. Too much. Andrea had reached the outermost boundaries of believability. Unable and unwilling to accept what he was telling her, she reacted exactly as she had in her last dream with her love. She pulled her hand free of his and ran away from him, ignoring his cry. “Andrea! Come home!”
* * * *
The drone of the jet engines lulled Andrea into a half-sleep. She was bone-tired, but her mind refused to let her rest. She was on her way home, or at any rate, back to California and her aunt’s house on the cliffs.
Pretending to be the Andrea her friends knew had just about depleted Andrea’s reserves. A faint smile shadowed her vulnerable lips for a moment as she recalled the reunion she had celebrated with Alycia, Sean, and Karla. The reunion had been doubly satisfying for them all, as the grand opening of Karla’s gallery had been a smashing success.
In addition, Andrea strongly suspected that there was, or soon would be, a man in Karla’s life. For, despite Karla’s insistence that she felt nothing for the man, there had been a new brightness to her eyes when she spoke of the imposing, ruggedly handsome world-famous painter, Jared Cradowg.
Andrea felt genuinely happy that the future seemed to be opening up in exciting ways for her friends. But in relation to her own future, Andrea could see nothing but a continuation of her state of aloneness.
Although it had been only a few short days since she had run away from Paul, Andrea missed him to a degree of intensity she would not previously have believed possible. The memory of him, the need for him, was like a constantly twisting knife in her heart. The pain was unbearable.
Paul was not at the airport to meet her, as they had arranged for him to be less than a week ago. But then, although she had harbored a secret hope that he’d come, Andrea really hadn’t expected him to show up.
She had not seen or heard from him since that afternoon ... was it really only three days ago? Without knowing how she knew—feelings? intuitions?—Andrea was certain that he was waiting for her to sort herself out, resolve her inner conflicts, and work up her courage to go to him, to where he was waiting for her, in his house beyond the path, the house he referred to as her home.
She was alone. Again.
During the weeks that followed Andrea’s return from Arizona she was entirely alone. She did not return to school. She saw no one except on two or three occasions when she was forced to shop for groceries. Cloistered inside the area around the cliff house, Andrea paced the rooms or walked the little crescent beach, waging an inner battle with her crippling fears—of betrayal, of committing her love and herself, and of the eerie differences that set Paul apart from other men.
Thanksgiving came and went, unnoticed by Andrea. The weather was damp and raw, but except for putting on a jacket when she left the house to prowl the beach, Andrea didn’t notice that, either. The pain of missing Paul had not lessened; it had deepened.
In the first week of December, Andrea received a phone call from Karla, happily demanding, not requesting, that Andrea return to Arizona at the end of that week to stand witness, along with Alycia, at her marriage to Jared Cradowg. Laughing and crying with her friend, Andrea promised to be there.
Though her inner battle had raged on during her weeks of solitude, Andrea knew that the force of her love for Paul had sent her fear into retrea
t. Strangely, the call from Karla was instrumental in routing the fear completely and forever.
For wasn’t Karla the practical, earthbound member of their unlikely trio? Andrea reminded herself. And hadn’t it always been Karla who had held out at all costs against the concept of loving a man to the point of total commitment? And if the practical, earthbound Karla was no longer afraid to let her spirit soar on the wings of love, Andrea asked herself, why should she, the believer in space travel, be afraid to let her love take flight? The answer came from deep within Andrea.
She was no longer alone.
Dusk was creeping over the earth as Andrea approached the bend in the path. She was calm, happy, and at peace with herself at last. She smiled as a seabird cried overhead. It was fitting for the occasion.
She was almost there.
She was almost home.
Without a twinge of fear or a second thought, Andrea followed the bend and continued along the path. A gasp of delighted surprise whispered through her lips when she sighted the house. Seemingly carved out of the cliff face, the rock and glass structure, like the man himself, possessed a natural breathtaking beauty.
Paul was waiting for her in the open doorway.
Without a twinge of fear, or a second thought, Andrea ran the last few steps and into his arms.
“Welcome home, my heart,” Paul said in his achingly familiar soft voice. “I’ve missed you.”
“I love you. I love you.” Andrea murmured the words, as he swept her into his arms and carried her through the house to his bedroom.
“And I love you, my Andrea,” Paul said. “I have always loved you.”
“I love you,” she whispered, as he slowly removed her clothes and helped her to remove his.
“I love you,” his voice echoed hers, as he crushed her mouth to his and gently lowered her to the bed,
“Oh, Paul, I love you!” Andrea cried moments later, as once again she was blinded by the brilliance of paradise.
“My Andrea! My Andrea!” his hoarse cry rang sweetly in her ears. “I love you!”