Ashley sat on a straight-backed chair and dropped her head into her hands. “I’ve been trying. I really have, because I love you so much it’s painful to be separated for an hour, let alone for days, and I want to spend my life with you. But it isn’t just a career, Zachary, something I can tether. Oh, Lord, how do I explain it to you?” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “It’s more like trying to turn off the flow of my blood, or stop the beat of my heart. It’s instinct, it’s biological reaction, it’s an automatic response that takes over.” She stood up and paced back and forth, looking for words to describe what to her seemed a natural phenomenon. “I can be sitting in a room, not even thinking of anything theatrical — like yesterday — with all your aunts and your cousins and an occasional uncle who would walk through to see if we were through and he could take his wife home. All of a sudden, I see it, onstage. I start pinpointing gestures and mannerisms to define character. Then, I focus on the bride, me, and I think, ‘She’s got to be as beautiful as possible; we’d use all pink gels.’” She stopped, her hands held palm upward, begging understanding. “I look across a room at you and love lyrics start writing themselves in my mind.” She threw up her hands in helplessness. “How do I put that in a ‘suitable’ time frame?”
Zachary lay his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. The silence, cacophonous in its intensity, seemed to go on forever. Ashley could hear her heart cracking, could feel her blood chilling. Her instincts were acute. This was going very, very badly.
Finally, Zachary lifted his head, his face strained, his eyes reflections of pain. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”
Ashley’s world was disintegrating around her, leaving her no firm ground on which to stand. She wanted to throw herself at his feet, beg him to forget the dumb incident, swear to him she’d never again get distracted by a lyric. But she couldn’t do any of those things. Because he was right. It wasn’t going to work.
Chapter Fourteen
Ashley lay on the lavender cut-velvet sofa in her living room, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying in vain to thwart the intrusion of dirgelike rhythms into her sorrow-sated brain. Seven long days had dragged by since she’d left Boston. Since she’d left the remnants of her smashed heart in Zachary’s home.
She should start returning gifts. She should help her mother cancel the invitations. She should at least get out of her bathrobe and put on some clothes. But all of those things — or even the smallest chore — was beyond her ability to execute.
Her parents had been incredulous, unable to disguise their disappointment, for her and in her. She had no idea how Zachary’s family had taken it. She’d talked to none of them since her sudden return to New York. She stood up and went to look out of the window. What in heaven’s name was there in this city that was worth losing Zachary for? Surely there was something significant, but it had slipped her memory.
There was a knock on the door followed by two short rings. Matt was here. Either he or Amy had come every day, bringing some small gift to show their love: a bouquet of spring flowers, a package of sachet, a new best-seller, even a crock of homemade chicken soup. Wearily, she trudged to the door and opened it. “Hi, Matt.”
He strode into the room, pausing only to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll play the piano while you go in and get dressed.”
“Matt . . .”
“Ashley, quit hanging around in your bathrobe. You look like a scene from Camille. I’ve got a song to play for you. It would be for Dr. Jekyll when it really hits him that he doesn’t know how to send Hyde back to wherever he came from. It will reflect his utter hopelessness. It’s the perfect lyric for you to work on right now.”
“Matt . . .”
“I’m not listening, Ashley, until you’re properly attired for late afternoon in Manhattan. Go put on your blue jeans.”
Ashley opened her mouth, closed it, shrugged and went to her bedroom to put on her blue jeans. She didn’t know what she’d have done, these last dreadful days, without Matt and Amy — probably stayed in bed all the time. Matt, particularly, pestered her doggedly, demanding that she at least attempt to function. When she’d attired herself in her jeans and a shirt, even shoes and socks, she ran a brush through her hair and put on some lipstick. No use trying to skip any of those steps; Matt would just send her back.
When she returned to the living room, she growled, “Okay, Simon Legree, what else? Want me to jump through a hoop or two?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s a good idea. Give you a little exercise. Now, sit there — ” he pointed an imperious finger at the pink chair “ — and listen.”
She tried to concentrate on the melody, tried to remember what Matt had told her this was all about, but her mind had posted an Out to Lunch notice. “Matt, my dear and faithful friend, why not give up? You know I can’t even remember the gist of the show.”
“Yeah, but it’ll start perking in that mind of yours sooner or later. I know you.”
“Yes, you do. Speaking of which, I must thank you for not saying ‘I told you so.’”
“Listen, babe, I’m getting no kicks out of seeing you down for the count again. But people like us, Ash, we’re incurable addicts. Trying to cut yourself off from show biz is like cutting the umbilical cord before you can function on your own.”
“Wouldn’t you think, at my age, that I could?”
“No. Age means nothing. We go from work to death — or senility, whichever comes first. I was frankly astonished that a smart guy like Zachary could make that mistake twice.”
“Matt . . .”
“Okay, okay, we don’t mention the forbidden name. Why won’t you take his calls?”
“There’s nothing more to say. And the sound of his voice would send me right off the edge. I’m clinging precariously, at that.”
“All right, my sweet, I’m leaving this music here, so when you wake up in the middle of the night with this immortal tune pounding away in your head, you can come out and play it to yourself. And don’t forget you’re coming to our place for dinner.”
“Matt — ”
“No excuses. I’m coming over to pick you up. Be ready to go at seven-thirty.”
She sighed. “Do I have to dress up?”
“Yes. Keep your blue jeans on. No bathrobe.”
“Yes, sir.”
He kissed her lightly, then pulled her into his arms to give her a long, tender hug. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“I know you are.” She buried her face in his soft cashmere sweater, suddenly aware that a terrible flood tide was erupting within her. When the crying started, it was all-out. Sobs, hiccups, gasping for breath, as though all the fluid in her body was determined to flow from her eyes.
Matt held her, patting her back as if she were a sick child. “Atta girl, Ash, let it out. Get rid of it. Nobody can keep that much hurt bottled up inside and live through it.” He held her and comforted her until the storm ran its course.
When she finally stepped back, sniffing into the handkerchief he’d given her, she mumbled, “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, next to Johnny. Thank you, Matt.”
“Friendships work both ways, babe. You’ve always been there for me, too. Now don’t forget. Seven-thirty tonight.”
At seven-thirty exactly, the doorbell rang. She went to answer listlessly, not registering the fact that it hadn’t been a knock and two rings. When she opened the door, she very nearly fainted. It wasn’t Matthew who stood there, it was Zachary. She’d been conned.
“Hello, Ashley.” He stepped past her into the foyer, his eyes never leaving hers.
“But, what, how . . .”
“Matt was busy cooking dinner, so I offered to come pick you up.”
“Matt never cooked a dinner in his whole life.”
Zachary took hold of her shoulders, his strong fingers digging into her flesh as though h
e was afraid if he didn’t hold on tightly enough, she’d bolt. “You wouldn’t answer my calls. I had to figure some other way to get to you.”
“And Matt set this up?”
“Yes. He knows we need to talk.”
“What’s the use, Zachary? What do you want from me, my hide?” The storm was rumbling again, somewhere near the pit of her stomach. If this one got started, the remains of her would probably run off under the door. Which was all right with her. “What are you trying to do to me?”
“Marry you.”
She threw back her head and yelled. “Stop it! I can’t take any more!”
Zachary, in one swift motion, bent down, scooped her up and carried her to the big, overstuffed chair in the living room, where he sat down cradling her in his lap, running his hand over her hair. “Ashley, please don’t cry. Honey, just listen to me for a few minutes. Then if you still want me to go, I will, with no more arguments.”
She couldn’t answer, she just moved her head up and down, too drained to fight anymore.
“One thing we’ve always agreed on is that we’d like to be married to each other, right?”
“Uh-huh. But — ”
“Shhh. Just listen. Like most men, I figured it was your place to accommodate to my job, to my way of life. The pattern started a long time ago. Remember that the cavemen just bonked their women over the head and carried them off.” She looked up at him, frowning, unable to figure out what that had to do with anything. “I’m just trying to excuse myself to a certain extent for being so damned male.”
“If you weren’t male, we wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.”
“True.” He tipped up her chin, so he could look at her. “I went over to my folks’ house to get a little comfort.”
“Did you?”
“No, instead, I got what my grandmother called my ‘comeuppance.’ Mom told me that by pulling you away from your career, I would be doing a great injustice not only to you but to thousands and thousands of people who got pleasure from your great talent.” Ashley’s eyes stayed fixed on him now; she was all but holding her breath so she wouldn’t miss the next words. “So I told her that was what made the whole thing so hopeless.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. She didn’t mind. “And my mother, who, as you noticed, is a very wise woman, said, ‘Son, there are two sides to every issue. And, in this particular case, two careers.’” “That’s all?” Disappointment flowed through her. “That’s what I thought, till I got home. Then my mind started grinding it over. And over.” So far she couldn’t see any new reason for hope. “I sat on my big leather chair in my study, staring at the mahogany paneling, and just thought about us. I thought about how much I loved you practically from the first time I saw you. I thought about the fact that I’ve never found anyone so stimulating or interesting or unique — on top of sexy, of course. I thought about how much fun we had just sitting and talking, sharing our ideas and our successes and our disappointments. I thought about what a good time I had when I came to rehearsals, once I’d let my guard down, how much I enjoyed getting to know Matt and Craig and Jerry and Lyle and so many of the others. You know something, honey, you’ve opened up a whole new sort of life to me and made my life more interesting and exciting by doing so. I knew what you did for a living when I fell in love with you. And once I quit convincing myself that a proper Bostonian like me couldn’t possibly enjoy theater folk and theater activities, I was free to admit I do. I get a real kick out of them.”
He stopped for air, and Ashley stared up at him, not daring yet to quite believe what he seemed to be saying.
“So, after I’d sifted through all this, I began to understand what my mother was trying to tell me. And it really belted me right between the eyes. My career is far more movable than yours.” She gasped, unable to contain her excitement. Could he really be considering . . . “Hell, I’ve already got five New York clients, and eight or nine others who’ve approached me. And a lot of the kind of law I practice could be headquartered here, as well as in Boston. So, what I’m saying is, why don’t we live in New York City, and spend time, when we can, in Boston?”
She was dumbstruck. She just stared at him with her mouth open.
“Does that vast silence mean ‘no’ or ‘yes’ or ‘maybe?’”
She opened her mouth a little more and yelled, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes and yes!” She threw her arms around him and kissed him with all the ardor and the relief and the joy that had flooded her heart. When she drew back, simply to breathe, she said, “Oh, gosh. My folks are going to pull out their hair. They probably just about finished canceling the wedding.”
“No, as a matter of fact, I called them and asked them not to. At least until we could sort out our thoughts. So it’s still on.”
Her whole face was lighting up, one big glare of happiness. “Could this really be happening? Are you sure it’s not a dream?”
“Well, I don’t know. Why don’t we go to bed? Then when we get up, we can decide if we’ve been asleep all this time.”
“What a good idea. Wait a minute, are Matt and Amy holding dinner for us?”
“No. As a matter of fact, they said it would be more convenient tomorrow night.”
She ran her fingers over his cheek, just to check how solid it felt. He certainly didn’t seem to be a figment of her imagination. “Are we really going there for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sure. We have to celebrate with our friends.” With that, he stood up, with her still in his arms and, kissing her hungrily, headed for the bedroom.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 1987 by Mary Curtis
ISBN 978-1-4976-3408-4
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10014
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MARY HASKELL CURTIS
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
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Love Lyrics Page 24