“Wow…you look…terrific.”
“Thank you. Could you help me with my jacket, please?”
He placed the jacket over her shoulders and her hand on his arm so he could guide her to the car.
When they got to their seats in Halsey Amphitheater, the orchestra was already tuning up. Peter read the program to her. She smiled when he mentioned the Liebesträume.
When the lights went down, he took her hand and folded it through his arm. The first pieces played were excerpts from the ballet Giselle. He felt Lara’s fingers spread out, her hand relax. Oddly, being close to her and smelling the subtle sweet scent of her perfume, reminding him of lilies of the valley was satisfying for Peter. Feeling her closeness, sharing the music with her, a sense of happiness washed over him. Peter never knew a woman, except Bianca, who appreciated classical music as fully as he did…until Lara. He saw her close her eyes and wondered what she was imagining. Had she ever danced to this? Would she ever dance again?
He noticed her foot moving slightly with the rhythm and he smiled. Dancers can’t sit still. He chuckled to himself when his fingers moved during the playing of the Liebesträume. Pianists can’t sit still either. He squeezed her hand. She smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her hair.
Peter let his mind drift with the music. He ran his thumb over the back of her small hand. He imagined himself playing Giselle and watching her dance in full ballerina costume.
After the concert, Peter drove them to The Creamery for ice cream.
“What flavor?” Peter asked, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.
“Butter pecan? Do they have that?”
“They do.”
Peter placed their order then guided Lara to a table. He picked up their ice cream cones and carried them back.
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Lara chewed her lower lip.
“You’ll be fine. Eating an ice cream cone is like riding a bike. It comes back to you.”
But it didn’t come back to Lara. First she smooshed her nose into the cone. Then she got ice cream on her fingers because she had to touch the cone to keep from burying her face in it. Some children at a nearby table giggled and Lara froze.
“You take it.” She thrust the cone at him, feeling the table for a napkin.
Peter glared at the twelve-year-olds at the next table then gently pushed her hand with the cone in it back towards her.
“Don’t let a bunch of stupid children upset you. Come on.”
Peter wrapped his fingers around her hand and slowly brought the ice cream up to her lips. She stuck out her tongue and he moved the ice cream up against it. Her pretty pink tongue licked the cone and he wanted to lean in and kiss her…and more. When she had it under control, he let go and sat back. His mind was racing and his temperature was rising.
“Funny, I haven’t forgotten that butter pecan is my favorite flavor.”
She licked the cone with enthusiasm and Peter watched every stroke while he devoured his chocolate chip.
When they returned, Peter noticed Pat’s car parked out front. He pulled the car into the driveway then steered Lara into the shadows between their houses. He leaned against the house and eased her into his arms. She rested her face against his chest while he stroked her hair. He tilted her chin up with his fingers, then his mouth closed down on hers for a gentle kiss. The softness of her lips, the sweetness of her taste mingled with the faint scent of lilies of the valley encouraged him to make the kiss a more passionate, demanding one. Lara relaxed against him. He kissed her again, his tongue teasing, then buried his face in her neck while the fingertips of one hand toyed with the hem of her sweater and the other traced the neckline, lightly grazing the tops of her breasts.
Lara shivered against him. Peter slid his hand down slowly and closed his fingers over her breast. He squeezed it gently and she moaned, closing her eyes. Touching her flesh ignited a fire in him, burning, aching for her. Lara offered no resistance but he knew his actions violated their agreement. Abruptly, he stopped touching her and moved her an arms-length away.
“It’s time to take you home,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
Lara took his hand and put his palm on her cheek. Then she kissed it.
“I don’t want to…go in,” she whispered, pulling him to her for a long, deep kiss.
“I promised…” he whispered into her mouth, as he put his hands on her shoulders and firmly moved her back.
“I know but…well—” she began.
“Have to keep my word.” Peter stepped back from her.
She sighed.
He walked her to her door, kissed her goodnight and left, taking a deep breath.
* * * *
Lara and Peter spent their afternoons together. She danced in the Caldwells’ living room while he practiced piano.
“Let me take you to lunch on Saturday for our second date.”
Lara sat cross-legged on the floor, mopping the sweat off her face with a small towel.
“How about a picnic? In a quiet place where people won’t laugh and stare at me.”
“You’re on. I’ll get food.”
“I’ll bring music,” she said.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“What?” She draped the towel around her neck.
“Listen,” he said as he played a piece from Giselle they had heard at the concert.
Lara’s head jerked up as she recognized the piece. After the first few bars, she got up and did a few moves from the dances she had seen. Her movements were hesitant at first as she struggled to remember the choreography, then it came back to her and she glided around the room. When he finished the piece, she clapped and made her way to the piano.
“You learned that piece for me?” She stood behind him and slid her hands down his chest.
He kissed her palm.
“You are a prince,” she whispered in his ear.
“And you are my princess…” he whispered back.
* * * *
Saturday came quickly. Peter picked up the picnic lunch at the deli before he called for Lara.
“Any suggestions on a secluded spot, Dad?”
“A little last minute…oh, wait. I’ve got just the place. Hold on.” Sam went to the desk and took out a small pad of paper.
“Not too far away, okay? I don’t want to get lost.”
“Simple directions…you might see a pair of cardinals there, Pete. Definitely black-capped chickadees and some goldfinches maybe even a downy woodpecker.” Sam finished scribbling then tore the piece of paper from the pad and handed it to Peter.
He nodded to his father then picked up the bag of food.
“No seduction, right?” Sam warned.
“A deal’s a deal.”
His father smiled and patted his son on the shoulder.
“Have a good time.”
“I could have a better time if…”
“Deal’s a deal.”
“Bye, Dad.”
Lara was waiting outside her uncle’s house with a small CD player and a blanket. She wore a full cotton print skirt in pink and a low-cut matching tank top. The drive was a pretty one, through a stretch of state forest. The sun beaming down on the trees highlighted the varying shades of green. Peter felt a twinge when he remembered Lara couldn’t see any of it.
“I love the smells here. The air is so fresh. Where are we?”
“Passing through Major State Park. It’s beautiful.”
After they got through setting up, Peter unpacked the basket. Cold fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw and blueberry turnovers were accompanied by blue and green striped paper plates and white plastic utensils. Between bites of chicken, Peter did his imitation bird calls he learned from his dad. Lara heard the birds respond. She shared stories about her ballet friends.
“Tell me about your life in the city.” He lounged back on one elbow on the blanket, chewing on a chicken leg.
“After I left the ballet…
I hung out with a…a…fast crowd. Some of my friends did cocaine and stuff. I never did drugs. A dancer is an athlete. Respect for your body, you know?”
Peter sat silently, his gaze sweeping over Lara’s form. I have a lot of respect for your body.
“You there?” she asked nervously.
“I’m listening. Cocaine and fast friends. Go on.”
“At night we went to clubs…drank, danced till dawn. It was one big party.” She chewed.
“Party girl?”
“Sort of…Not anymore.” She turned away from Peter.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, taking her arm.
Lara turned around, groping for her plate. Peter handed it to her and she quietly finished her potato salad.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asked her.
“I don’t remember. Maybe.”
“Did you have many men waiting for you at the stage door?”
“Some.” Lara picked up a chicken breast and took a big bite.
“Did you go out with a lot of them?” he asked.
“A few. We went out a lot in groups. I had a few boyfriends…”
“Anything serious?” he asked, and finished the last of the chicken leg.
“Not that I can remember.”
“Did you sleep with a lot of guys?” He sat up straight and threw the chicken bone in the bag designated for garbage.
“Peter!”
“Well?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Have you slept with a lot of women?” she countered, easing back on her elbows.
“I asked you first,” he parried.
“Not a lot. I don’t think…I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, changing position, raising herself up on one elbow.
“I didn’t think you were. I’ve slept with a lot of women. I admit it.”
Lara shifted her position again, moving away from the sound of his voice.
“At least I’m honest. You asked. Those days are over. Now I want only one woman…you,” he said, inching closer to her.
“But what about tomorrow?”
“Today, tomorrow…only you,” he said, moving even closer. “You look beautiful. Always wear pink…”
Lara lay back again and Peter stretched out next to her. She turned to talk to him, but he was too close and their lips, only a breath away, touched. Peter put his fingers in her hair, cupped her head and drew her closer to him for a kiss. She returned his affection, parting her lips. The kiss was slow and sweet. Then he kissed her with more passion.
The kissing heated up. Lara was on her back with Peter hovering over her. He moved his lips down to her neck and his hand traveled down while a finger rimmed her tank top, teasing the tops of her breasts. Her breath came quicker.
Peter slid his hand down to capture her breast and she sighed. He massaged it gently, finding the peak, caressing it through the flimsy material of her top and bra.
His lips followed, kissing her neck as his hand eased down the straps and exposed her breast to his lips and hand. Lara sucked in her breath as she felt the breeze caress her bare skin, followed by gentle pressure from Peter’s persuasive mouth. Lara touched his rough face then began to unbutton his shirt. A soft moan escaped from her throat. Her soft touch stoked his fire. His hand squeezed her flesh as he licked and sucked her nipple. Lara’s encouragement of his lovemaking fueled his desire. The longer she let him make love to her, the more his control slipped.
Suddenly, Peter sat up and cursed under his breath.
“I can’t do this.”
“What?”
“I can’t date you,” he said, standing up.
“Why not? What’s wrong with me?” Lara said, tears quickly forming in her eyes as she replaced her clothing.
“Nothing. Not a damn thing. You’re perfect. It’s me. I want to make love to you; I can’t date you platonically. I thought I could, but I can’t. I want you too much. I can’t control myself.”
“I like…you…touching me,” she admitted, color suffusing her cheeks.
“A deal’s a deal. Home.”
Lara helped him pack up. She turned her face away from him, blinking rapidly so he wouldn’t see her tears and walked quietly to the car. When they got home, Peter took Lara to her door. He kissed her goodbye passionately and retreated to his house. He sat down at the piano and played for two hours.
When Sam returned with Pat, Peter was packing up his music.
“I thought you were on a picnic,” Sam asked.
“Patience is a virtue I don’t have, Dad.” Peter said, walking into the bedroom and shutting the door.
* * * *
Back in New York City, a young photographer unbandaged his hand. The cracked finger had finally healed, along with the bruises on the knuckles he got from beating up his girlfriend. He read about her amnesia, grateful for the time it gave him to find her and finish her off before she went to the police. He scoured the newspapers and the Internet, looking for her but she had vanished. He had to find her, take her out before she remembered and brought his ideal life to a halt. He wasn’t ready to go to prison.
* * * *
After Peter called a halt to dating, Lara begged him to let her keep dancing while he played. He relented, unsure of how far his restraint would hold. She planned to dance in the talent show at Kensington State, a simple number she choreographed herself and she needed practice.
“Can you play Tchaikovky’s First Piano Concerto for me?” Lara asked, stretching to limber up her legs.
After an hour and a half of dance, Lara was hot and sweaty.
“I’m going to take a bath,” she said, grabbing her spare leotard and feeling her way to the bathroom.
Peter remained at the piano practicing the music. When he heard the bath water stop running, he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Lara dried off, wrapped the towel around her and stopped. Something grabbed her attention, it was the silence. No piano. Where was Peter? She stuck her head out of the bathroom door and called his name. No answer. She became panicky.
“Peter. Peter? Peter!” she called, anxiety growing with each repetition of his name.
Still there was no answer. Lara listened. The only sound breaking the silence was the pounding of her heart. Fear of being alone escalated. Her breath came quickly, she choked on her saliva. Scared to remain where she was, she moved too quickly, forgetting about the bathroom door sill, tripped and fell.
She crawled slowly on all fours, inching her hand along the wall of the hallway but she lost her bearings and became confused. Frozen with fear, Lara lay down on the floor in the corner and started crying softly. Crying escalated to screaming when she made out a dark shadowy figure coming down the hall toward her.
“Stop! Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me! It’s gone. The baby is gone. Please don’t hurt me anymore!” Lara shielded her face with her arms and curled into a ball.
“It’s me. It’s me. It’s Peter,” he said taking her into his arms.
“Peter?”
“It’s me. You’re okay.”
“I couldn’t hear you play. I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t know where you were. You were gone and I didn’t know where. Then I saw a shadow of a man coming toward me and I thought…I thought—” she stopped the rush of words pouring out of her mouth. Seized by panic, she tried to catch her breath.
“You’re safe. I’m here.”
“I was alone and couldn’t find the door and then I tripped and I didn’t know which wall…I…all turned around…and…and I couldn’t find you,” she rambled on.
She was still shaking when he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He put her down gently on the bed. She was sobbing.
“Don’t leave me!”
“I’m here. I’ll talk to you as I go,” he said quietly, “I’m walking to the closet. There it is, the bathrobe. Now I’m walking back. I’m almost at the bed.”
The sobbing passed and Lara lay curled up, completely still on the be
d. Peter returned with his bathrobe and covered her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed.
“Please, stay…” she said, her hand shaking slightly.
Peter got on the bed with her and took her into his arms, stroking her hair. She calmed down and cuddled into his shoulder.
“When you were in the tub, I went to the kitchen to get a drink. I couldn’t hear you because I had to run the water in the sink a while to get it cold.”
“I’m sorry I got so hysterical…I thought you were him…coming down the hall.”
“You saw me?” She felt him brush some stray hair out of her face.
“A shadow.” The warmth of his body sunk into hers calming her.
“An improvement?”
“I guess.”
“What did you say about a baby?” His hand stopped stroking.
Lara turned away from him.
“Aren’t we good friends? Can’t you tell a good friend anything?”
She squirmed under the bathrobe.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said resuming his caress of her hair.
“You’ll be my friend anyway, right?” She turned back to face him.
“You know I will.”
“You won’t judge me?”
“Never.” Again he stilled his hand while he listened. She turned back to face him and settled her head on his shoulder as he put his arms around her and pulled her in close. She felt safe.
“I must have been pregnant when I was attacked because I had a miscarriage afterward. The police think the man who attacked me did it to make me miscarry. So he must have been someone I cared a lot about. I don’t remember being pregnant. But then I don’t remember much, including him. Maybe when I get my memory back, I’ll know who did this to me,” she said, tears filling her empty eyes.
“That’s disgusting.” He tightened his grip, pulled her closer and kissed her hair. “Give me a few minutes alone with the bastard, I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget,” Peter said, his hand fisted.
Now and Forever 5, Love's Journey Page 10