He didn’t hesitate to make the suggestion. “I’d like to come over, if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure. Just as’ fo’ the li’l nobody when you ring the bell.”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion. What the heck was she talking about?
He packed a suit, shirt, socks, and underwear for work tomorrow and some toiletries and threw everything in a black nylon garment bag. At the last minute he tossed in an extra shirt. He didn’t stop to dial Rhonda until he’d gotten on a train headed for the city.
“Rhonda, have you spoken with Alicia today?” he inquired without preamble as soon as she answered the phone.
“No, Jack, why?”
“I called her a little while ago. She sounded awful, like she’s been hitting the bottle again.”
“I don’t understand what’s gotten into her lately. She barely used to touch a drop. And here I was thinking that since her mother passed she’d probably cut it out.”
“People who only drink when they’re stressed over something often become alcoholics,” he remarked. “But there’s more to it than that. She said some things to me on the phone that just plain don’t make sense. I think something happened to her today, or maybe last night.”
“I can get Pete, and we can go down there to check on her.”
“No, you stay put. I’m already on a train. I’ll go to work straight from her apartment.”
“Will you call us, let us know what’s going on?”
He recognized the concern in her voice. “I promise. Try not to worry.”
In a hurry to reach Alicia, Jack took a cab to her apartment from Grand Central. He rang her bell, then rang it again when she hadn’t answered after a minute. He had his cell out to call her when her voice came through the speaker. “Who ’zit?”
He started to call out her name, then rephrased. “It’s Jack. Let me in.”
When the buzzer sounded he pulled the door open and proceeded to take the stairs two at a time until he reached the fourth floor landing.
When she opened the door, after what seemed like an eternity, he immediately forgot his promise not to use her first name. Her hair was loose and uncombed, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, her face showing intense strain. His beautiful Alicia looked almost seedy. “Alicia! What happened?”
She fell into his arms, her hands clutching his back like he alone could save her from her demons. Jack quickly glanced in the hall to see if anyone witnessed what should be a private moment. He gently eased her backward and closed the door behind him, then let the garment bag slip from his hand and fall to the floor in a heap. He used both hands to hold her to him and whispered in her ear. “It’s all right. I’m here. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, not now,” she whispered back. “It hurts too much.”
“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. He felt her hold on him lessen.
“I look a mess,” she said dully.
Jack wasn’t sure that agreeing with her would be such a good idea. Instead he said, “Did you want to clean up?”
She reverted back to her whisper. “Yeah.”
“Go ahead. I’ll just make myself comfortable.”
He hung up his garment bag in the coat closet, then removed the throw that lay across the chaise in the corner and sat down, kicking off his shoes to rest his feet on the matching ottoman. He noticed an empty bottle of Australian wine on the coffee table, as well as the martini pitcher partially filled with an unknown beverage. It broke his heart to think of her in this apartment alone, drinking to drown her pain. Thank God he’d called.
He glimpsed her leaning over an open drawer of the Bombay chest, her upper body bent but moving up and down a few inches in an inadvertent rocking motion. When she straightened up, fresh clothes in hand, and disappeared into the bathroom, he got up and discarded the empty bottle, washed out her glass, and returned the martini pitcher to the refrigerator.
Other than the ingredients of binge drinking, the apartment looked fine. Her bed at the front of the apartment remained neatly covered with pillows, as usual. She had apparently sat in the chaise and drank until she fell asleep.
Fifteen minutes passed beforeAlicia emerged from the bath, wearing a blue cotton blend knee-length bathrobe that completely concealed whatever she wore beneath it. He looked up expectantly. She looked a thousand percent better. Her hair had been brushed and caught with a coated rubber band at the nape of her neck. He still saw stress in her face, but not as much. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, much.”
She didn’t seem to want to talk, so he didn’t press the issue. She’d tell him what had her unglued when she was ready. “I thought I’d order in,” he said instead. “What do you feel like eating?”
“That’s a great idea. I don’t really want anything exotic, like Chinese or even pizza.” She took a moment to think. “You know what I could really go for? A big, juicy hamburger. But the people who make the best burgers don’t deliver.”
“That’s not a problem. I’ll pick them up.” He had no idea how far he had to go, but if that’s what she wanted, he’d find the place, wherever it was.
“No. I don’t want you to leave. We’ll send them by cab.”
He looked at her incredulously. “Hamburgers delivered by cab?”
“Sure! From Luger’s in Brooklyn. I’ve done it before.”
An hour later Jack completed eating the best hamburger he’d ever eaten. “This is delicious,” he said.
“There’s nothing like a burger from Luger’s. In my opinion they’re the best in New York.” She yawned. “Excuse me. I know it’s bad to eat and lie down, but I’m still tired.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be right here.”
He watched a documentary on the Civil War for the next two hours. Frequently he walked over to look in on her. She appeared to be sleeping, but at one point she rolled over on her stomach and whimpered into her pillow like a hurt animal.
Jack felt utterly helpless watching her. Never before had he witnessed such deep pain. He wished he had a way to get in touch with Martha. She might know what happened.
No, he thought. Martha wouldn’t know, unless she’d witnessed it herself. Alicia didn’t confide in people, not even someone as close to her as Martha. The only person she might talk to had just been buried.
Could Alicia’s torment stem from grief? She’d cried a little at the cemetery, not wracking sobs like Daphne, but dignified tears, like those of her uncles.
No, that wasn’t it. She grieved for her mother, no doubt about that, but this was something deeper. Something unimaginable.
He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his palm lightly on her back, remaining there for nearly ten minutes, until her breathing returned to normal. She didn’t wake up at all during the episode.
Jack wondered how long it would be until she felt she could share the source of her pain with him, put it into words. A day? A week? Longer? Even as he mused, he knew that however long it took, he would be by her side while she dealt with her anguish.
When Alicia’s cell phone, laying on top of the coffee table, began its distinctive ring he looked at it uncertainly, then made a split second decision. “Hello.”
The hesitation on the other end of the line told him the caller was a male. Jack expected as much; it was after ten.
“May I speak to Alicia?” the caller finally asked in a confident voice.
“I’m sorry, she’s not feeling well at the moment.”
Another pause. “Who’s this, anyway?”
“This is a friend of hers.”
“So am I.”
“Good. I’ll tell her you called.” Jack’s finger poised to hit the End button when the man on the other end spoke.
“Wait a minute. You don’t even know my name. How can you tell her I called?”
“I’ll just tell her a friend of hers called.”
“My name’s Derek, man. Is there anything I can d
o to help out?”
“That’s nice of you, Derek, but I’m taking care of her.” He decided that Derek was entitled to know his identity. “This is Jack Devlin. I think I met you here, and I saw you at the funeral.”
“Yeah, I think so. Well, let me know if I can be of any help. Alicia’s my girl. I gotta make sure she’s okay.”
He said it in a casual rather than possessive manner, with the emphasis on “girl,” not “my.” Still, that was the last thing Jack wanted to hear Derek say. “No, Derek, she’s my girl.” He hung up, smiling. He’d shifted the emphasis a word ahead to leave no doubt about his intentions. He knew Derek understood exactly what he meant.
He went to use the restroom, pausing by where Alicia lay on the way back. She’d climbed between the sheets of the medieval-looking sofa that served as her bed, hiding in plain sight. In sleep she looked completely peaceful, stress-free. She slept on her side, one arm partially obscured by her pillow, the other outside the blanket. A spaghetti strap of a tan nightgown peeked out from under the covers.
He gazed down at her for a few moments, then reached out to lightly caress her bare shoulder. Her skin felt soft to his fingertips. In spite of himself he ran his hand down the length of her arm.
In an instant she opened her eyes and reached out with her other hand, clamping it around his arm. Their eyes met and held. “Lay down with me, Jack,” she said softly.
He couldn’t refuse her. He nodded, and she let go of his arm. He slipped the covers back and slid between the sheets, on his side, facing her. The double bed seemed very small. He moved as close to her as he dared. Feeling an overwhelming need to touch her, he reached out, aiming for a part of her that would be covered. He didn’t know if he could handle touching bare skin.
He settled for her lower back, just above the curve of her hips. A satisfied sigh escaped from Alicia’s lips as she stretched her body lengthwise against his. Her head fit nicely in the niche between his chin and his chest. Her left arm reached out and settled near his arm, her hand resting on his shoulder.
Lying and holding each other this way gave him the wonderful sense of intimacy, and he knew he wanted to take care of Alicia forever. He still didn’t know what had caused her to go on this bender, but he felt confident that she would tell him soon.
Jack opened his eyes. He realized immediately that he’d dozed off. Alicia’s soft breathing next to him told him she, too, was sleeping. The bed’s high head and foot boards blocked out much of the light, but he could hear the TV playing softly behind them. He hadn’t bothered to turn it off.
He slipped out of bed and turned off the set with the remote. It only took a few seconds, but when he returned Alicia startled him by saying, “Weren’t you going to say good-bye?”
“No, because I’m not leaving. I just got up to turn off the TV.” He lifted the covers to get between them.
“Do you always sleep in your jeans?”
He hesitated. They were getting into territory that he wasn’t sure she was ready for, at least not emotionally. “No.”
“Then take them off.”
The room was completely dark, but his eyes had focused enough to see that she propped her upper body on one elbow. The spaghetti strap of the elevated shoulder had fallen down. He could create a sticky mess in his shorts just thinking about the curves and warm skin beneath that nightgown.
Quickly he stripped to his shorts and got back into bed, laying on his back so she wouldn’t feel his arousal. This wasn’t the right time to make love. Alicia snuggled against his side, and his arm went around her.
“I’m glad you came to me tonight, Jack,” she said softly. “I wanted to call you. I guess I was too proud. But I’m glad you called me.”
“I was worried about you.” His arm inadvertently tightened around her shoulder.
“Sometimes pride can be a terrible thing,” she said, so faintly he could hardly hear.
“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, already falling asleep.
The feel of something wet on his shoulder woke him. He glimpsed at the large red digits of the alarm clock on the Bombay chest. Two-forty-five. Alicia’s face still nuzzled against his shoulder. He quickly realized the source of the wetness.
It was tears.
He shifted position, facing her. “Alicia, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I’m all right.”
“The hell you are. People don’t cry for no reason.”
“I’m not crying. I just got a little emotional, and one tear slipped out of me.”
“You know you can talk to me about it any time you want,” he said gently.
“I know. I’m not ready yet. I’m all right, Jack. Go back to sleep.”
“All right.” But Jack had no intention of going to sleep. Instead he lay awake and listened carefully for any sounds of crying. When her even breathing took over, he impulsively pressed his lips to her now-dried cheek. Alicia stirred, moving her head so that her lips replaced where her cheek had been moments before. Her arms went around his neck as they kissed deeply.
His reservations about making love to her quickly melted away. She clearly wanted and needed him as much as he did her. In a blur of movements they shed their clothes. “I’ve got protection in my wallet,” he said breathlessly between kisses.
“For God’s sake, hurry up.”
Afterward they snuggled together on their sides, facing each other. He dozed off and on, not wanting to fall asleep until Alicia appeared to be resting comfortably. The sound of her even breathing made him relax. Obviously something happened in the elapsed time between leaving her mother’s home yesterday afternoon and this evening when he called her, something that disturbed her even more than the death of her mother.
He just couldn’t imagine what it could be.
Chapter 30
All Things Must Pass
He found himself glad he’d thought to pack that extra shirt. Just before leaving for work he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “Alicia, I’m about to leave. You’ll have to come and lock the door behind me.” When she didn’t respond he shook her shoulder gently.
She slowly opened her eyes. “My head hurts,” she announced.
“I suppose it does. I saw that pitcher of liquor.” The mixture had the same coloring as the Kamikazes she’d mixed the first night they met, back in the fall. “It was nearly empty. Alicia, you can’t continue drinking like that.”
He expected her to argue, but she merely said in a meek voice, “I know.”
“I’ve got to go, but can we talk later?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“We’ll go get some dinner when I get in. Can I call anyone for you?” As he promised to do, he called Rhonda last night while Alicia showered, just to let her know that no harm had befallen her.
“No, thanks. I’ll call Shannon and let her know I won’t be in again today.”
When he returned after work she looked much more like herself. Her face looked back to normal, and she wore jeans and a striped sweater.
“You look great,” he said, smiling.
“I don’t feel too bad, either. I took a nice long shower. And I haven’t had anything to drink. You can check the pitcher.”
“I don’t have to check, Alicia. I believe you.” He patted the pockets of his overcoat. “I guess there’s not much point in my taking off my coat. You look ready to go.”
She glanced at the sports coat and tie he wore under his unbuttoned coat. “Maybe I should change. I’m a little underdressed—”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll still be the best-looking woman at the restaurant.” He loosened, then removed his tie. “Is there anyplace in particular you’d like to go?”
“There’s a Mediterranean place down on Seventy-Seventh that I like. It’s quiet, so we can talk.”
As they walked Alicia relayed what happened the day before, her shouting match with Daphne, and her visit with Sam McDaniel. She left out the circumstances of her parents’ deaths, only
saying that they died, leaving her an orphan, or as Daphne had put it, “an orphaned little nobody.” It was all too raw, too new. Eventually she’d tell him about it, but right now she couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t a lie, not really…just not the whole truth.
“Alicia, I’m…speechless,” Jack said honestly when she was through. “I understand why you went on a bender. I’d probably do the same thing if I suddenly found out I wasn’t who I’d always thought I was. And what a terrible way to find out.” It would have been so much better if Alicia heard the truth from Caroline, a loving mother figure, than a spiteful creature like Daphne.
“I woke up yesterday thinking I was Alicia Timberlake,” she concluded. “I went to bed as Alicia Clements.”
“You’re still Alicia Timberlake,” Jack pointed out. “Your name doesn’t mean anything. And it’s just your last name at that.”
Their conversation temporarily stopped as they arrived at the restaurant, were seated and looked over the menu.
After they placed their orders—neither of which included alcohol—Jack smiled at her across the table. “So what happens now?”
“I’m going to see if I can track down anyone in Hartford who knew my parents.”
He hesitated, not wanting to offend her on what obviously was a sensitive topic. “Alicia, I can readily understand your wanting to talk to people who knew your parents, but do you think that’s wise? A lot of neighborhoods that were merely poor forty years ago have become unsafe now.”
“You’re absolutely right. But when I said ‘I,’ I didn’t mean it literally. I intend to hire a PI.”
“Won’t that be expensive?”
“I’m sure it won’t be cheap,” she admitted. “But it’s not like I can’t afford it, Jack. My father left me money when he died, and I just inherited more from my mother.” Her attempt at a chuckle sounded like she was choking. “My mother, my father. I don’t know how to differentiate my two sets of parents.”
A Love for All Seasons Page 18