Hold Fast 'Til the Dawn

by Mary Haskell

  He hated the feeling. Larry knew any number of men to whom this scene would be a familiar part of their existence. Did duplicity become simple with practice? Ky appeared to be total y unfazed by any of it. But then, Ky was single; she had no obligations to honor. For the first time Larry found himself wondering how many men had fol owed her into hotel rooms over the years, how he would compare to them. Dear Lord, instead of concentrating on staying faithful to his wife he was wondering how he would stack up against Ky's other lovers!

  At last they were alone; the door had closed on the retreating back of the bel boy and the last of Larry's delaying tactics. He stood awkwardly, sure only of his ineptness. Ky dropped her sweater over the back of a chair, kicked off her shoes, and came to him. She ran her hands up the front of his lapels to his shoulders, her midnight eyes smoldering, the invitation in them undeniable. "Larry, my love." The silk-soft voice vibrated across his sensory strings, twanging their message of sensual enticement to every nerve ending.

  He lowered his lips to hers, pressing them softly, tentatively, then giving in to the raging hunger that consumed him. The pale, faded memory-pictures snapped vividly into focus as every one of his senses responded to the voltage assaulting him in response to the head-to-toe touch of her body rubbing against his.

  "Ky, Ky." He heard the tortured gasp of his voice, felt al resolve dissolving in the fiery heat they were generating. Her delicate fingers wove a pattern of tiny love chains up his neck, across his tingling cheek, into his ear, into his hair, binding him in threads of steel. He buried his face in her sweet-smel ing hair, which hung wantonly loose.

  "Larry, I want you so. I want you to touch every part of me, to kiss me in al the places you used to kiss me."

  She was unbuttoning his shirt, tickling his chest with the tips of her nails, her hips subtly gyrating their need.

  Larry was crazy with desire. He remembered al too clearly the delicious parts of that incomparable body that he had touched, kissed, tantalized. He remembered the raging inferno of her ignited passion.

  Her tongue circled his lips and slipped in and out of his mouth. He crushed her to him, thrusting his own tongue deep into that succulent feast, his blood pounding through his veins. With heedless haste he pul ed down the neck-to-hips zipper in the back of her dress, shuddering with the tactile delight his fingers found beneath the cloth.

  Ky shrugged out of the garment, letting it drop to the floor. Larry's breath caught in his throat when he looked down at her. She wore nothing—she had been total y nude under the dress—and the slim, supple body had surrendered none of its beauty to the years. He was spel bound.

  Ky took his hands in hers and guided them to her faultlessly molded breasts. With titil ating deliberateness, she placed his palms on the pliant mounds, which were rising and fal ing with her rapid breath. He could feel the hard tips jutting into his skin. The wild craving mounted, coursing through his swiftly yielding soul. The forbidden fruit was laid out before him, and he wanted it.

  His hands began to move over her, and the light from the table lamp bounced off the gold band on his third finger. With blinding clarity, a picture of Jenny's sweet face juxtaposed itself between him and the body he held. He blinked rapidly, wil ing the intrusion to disappear. It faded away, leaving him alone again with the object of his desire. He resolutely lowered his face toward Ky's, only to have soft brown doe-eyes interpose themselves in place of the slanted black beams. He stopped and shook his head, disoriented, shaken.

  "Larry, what's the matter?"

  "I don't know." The mood had shifted, the fire chil ed. His hands dropped helplessly to his sides. "Ky, I'm sorry."

  He raised his eyes to meet her disappointed gaze. He was astounded to realize that with that brief flash of passing time he was embarrassed by her nakedness. He sank into a chair, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

  Ky, evidently sensing his sharp change of mood, opened one of the suitcases, took out a robe, and put it on.

  She crossed to him and sank to the floor at his feet, resting her cheek against his knee. "What is it, Larry?

  What happened?"

  He stroked the long, sleek hair, trying to transmit some degree of comfort, some reassurance of his caring. "I don't seem to be much good at this, Ky. I feel like some kind of social misfit, a straight-shooter in a zigzag world."

  "Larry, I need you so." She lifted her face, revealing two streams of tears rol ing down her cheeks.

  "I'm becoming an expert at hurting the people I care about." He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the trickling drops. "Ky, what made you decide to come back into my life?" He hadn't anticipated the question—it just popped out.

  One corner of her mouth raised ever so slightly. "You

  mean you don't believe it was simple happenstance?"

  "No, I don't. There was a definite programmed quality to the meeting. Besides, as I recal , very few things in your life were happenstance, even when you were very young."

  "With one fatal exception."

  "Was it an exception?"

  Her startled gaze met his, wavered, and dropped. She hesitated, then shrugged. "No, the only part of that pregnancy that wasn't planned was your reaction to it."

  Larry gave a great sigh and leaned back, resting his head against the wal and closing his eyes. "I sometimes wondered."

  "Now you know."

  "Now I know." He looked down at her once more. Her gaze was now steady and unswerving. "It would have worked, you know, if you had just hung in a little longer."

  "Wil it work this time if I hang in?"

  Larry had never felt so total y overwhelmed by emotion. Her admission eased some of the guilt, but it didn't ease the longing. "You haven't answered my first question. Why did you come here after al these years?"

  Ky stood up and walked to the other side of the room. She kept her back to him when she spoke. "I never got over you, Larry. I tried to love other men." She turned to face him. "As you know, I even married one of them. I didn't realize for a long time how strong my feelings stil were. Then I saw a picture of you in the newspaper, and an article about you. It started everything up again as though someone had taken a giant eraser to nineteen years."

  Larry frowned, puzzled. "Where did you see the newspaper?"

  "The day I went into the Dal as office of your company. There was a table in the waiting room with information about the company, including some articles in a display folder about some of the partners. I think the article said something about your computerizing hospital records. I skimmed over that part, looking for more personal information. Al it told me was that you worked in the Boston office. I had to dig for the rest. That's when I decided to come here." She looked him straight in the eyes. "I came to try to remedy a terrible mistake, even though the mistake was made a long time ago. We were so right for each other, Larry. We stil are." She resumed her former position at his feet.

  He took her face in his hands, letting himself savor each familiar, lovely feature. "Ky, I have a wife and a family.

  Didn't you take that into consideration?"

  She traced his features with the tips of her fingers, her ebony eyes warming him, the mere touch of her hand rekindling the embers of the fire that had raged just a few minutes before. "Can you possibly have with Jenny what you have with me?"

  He stood abruptly, almost toppling her. "I don't want to discuss Jenny with you, Ky. She's my wife, and I owe her my loyalty."

  Ky rose in one quick, graceful motion and stood very close to him. He could feel the radiation of her warmth, smel that entrancing scent that moved with her. Her eyes seemed huge, bottomless; the finely honed nose tiny, dainty; the ful lips sensuous, waiting. The robe had opened enough to reveal her cleavage.

  She watched him watching her, her eyes wise, knowing. Then, with slow purposefulness, she untied the belt on the robe, moving just enough to let it fal open al the way down the front, revealing the treasure trove that was his for the taking. She opened her mouth an
d wet her lower lip with her smal pink tongue, then pul ed one side of the robe back stil further. Larry was transfixed, fal ing into those dark eyes, melting into that cauldron of passion bubbling before him. "Do you want me to just go away?" The question was simple, direct, and, under the circumstances, incredibly unfair.

  Larry was shaking from the effort to restrain himself. If he touched her now, he'd be there al night. "Ky, you're driving me wild. I can't do this, not now, not with my wife at home knowing damn wel where I am." He brushed past her to the door. "I've got to get out of here."

  "You didn't answer my question."

  He turned, al owing himself one final, agonizing look. "Of course I don't want you to just go away. What I want

  — Oh hel ." With that he yanked open the door and bolted through it, banging it shut behind him.

  He slipped as quietly as possible into the house, washed up in the downstairs bathroom, then tiptoed upstairs and into the bedroom. With great care he eased into the bed, but the moment his weight hit the mattress, Jenny spoke.

  "Have you been with her?"

  "Jenny..."

  "Damn it, just tel me. Have you been with her?"

  "Not in the way you mean."

  "How do you know what I mean? Never mind. In any way at al , have you been with Ky?"

  "Yes."

  "Then please sleep in the other room."

  Larry got out of the bed and went into the cold, unwelcoming guest room. He seemed to be dragging tons of weight with him, the enormity of the situation pressing down with relentless force. He tossed and turned most of the night, robbed of restful sleep, tormented by the alternating wishes of going into Jenny's warm bed and going back to Ky's steaming room.

  He final y slipped into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Wil I ever enjoy eating in a restaurant again? Jenny wondered. "Dinner out" had taken on an ominous overtone, and this evening's was the most ominous of al . She was in one of those smal , elegant restaurants where the food was delicious, the service impeccable, and the prices outrageous. What made her deeply, bitterly angry was that she was here because of Ky Kayle.

  Although she had searched desperately for an excuse to avoid this, she had found herself irrevocably trapped in the spider's web. Ky had so interwoven their children in her schemes that she had also caught Jenny in the sticky threads. It was neatly done, with top-etiquette precision.

  Today had been one more in a series of final straws. Christy had spent the afternoon with Ky, who had lavished attention, praise, and a special y designed tennis wardrobe on the enchanted child. Rick, the "mystery guest" carrot dangling before his besotted eyes, was bridling with impatience al day, waiting for it to be time for him and his mother to join the group. Aside from jumping up and down and screaming "I won't, I won't, I won't!" she could find no options. But then, she had cut off so many parts of her mind for defense purposes that she couldn't be sure any of it was working properly.

  Jenny felt like one of those legendary Zombies, the walking dead, lumbering from one duty to the next, doing what she was programmed for, devoid of ordinary reactions and feelings. If she let herself feel she was done for. Hurt, like great, munching demons, waited for her outside each one of those closed mind-doors. Hurt so mammoth, so invincible, that she could imagine no way to survive its attack.

  Since the awful moment, two nights ago, that she had sent Larry from her bed, they had exchanged the briefest of words, words necessary either for running the house or for maintaining some semblance of husband-wife rapport in front of the children.

  The moment Jenny entered this place she had felt a trap door snap shut on any realistic hopes for her marriage. If it were possible, Ky looked more beautiful than the last time she had seen her. She was dressed in a cocktail-length creation that immediately brought the word gossamer to Jenny's mind. The gown was moss green, with delicate, subtle patterns of shiny beads and sequins, so that with every movement Ky glittered, a fine, expensive gem. She maneuvered with the grace of a bal erina on heels so high Jenny was sure she'd have broken an ankle if she walked across the room on them. Ky was the center of attention, the axis of a brightly spinning wheel, and Larry was right beside her, a man caught in the vortex, no longer even pretending to be detached.

  Ky made a show of friendliness toward Jenny, and Jenny, manners carved in stone, smiled and nodded woodenly. But there was no real pretense between the two women. The battle lines were drawn. Jenny felt like a lone soldier, armed with a bow and arrow, trying to take aim at an approaching tank.

  "Jenny."

  She jumped. She hadn't seen Martha come up beside her. "Martha! You startled me."

  "No doubt. You seemed to be in another country." She glanced over at Ky and Larry, who were talking animatedly with the owner of Leanne's Boutique. "Not that I blame you."

  "Not too subtle, are they?"

  Martha looked at her compassionately. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "Do you have any of that rat poison handy?"

  "No, but I might be able to locate an al -night drugstore."

  Jenny attempted a smile. "Thanks, Martha. At the moment I don't think there's anything anyone can do, including me. Just sit next to me at dinner, will you?"

  "You bet your life I wil ."

  The dinner was agonizing. Ky was flanked by Christy and Larry, and Rick, rapt with attention, sat next to the imposing athletic figure of the mystery guest, a renowned runner. Jenny was, in every way, cut off from her family.

  Estranged, she thought. This is what estranged means. Martha tried to engage her in conversation, but Jenny's psyche was in ful flight. She was very quickly reaching the ragged end of her "hanging-on" rope.

  As soon as the eating ordeal was finished and the first few people arose from the table, Jenny got up and turned to Martha. "I'm going home."

  Martha touched her arm, her face a mask of worry. "Are you sure you shouldn't stay?"

  "Stay and fight, you mean? Probably. But I can't. I'm completely washed out. Or I suppose it would be more accurate to say washed up."

  "Jenny..."

  Jenny took her friend's hand and squeezed it, a gesture of the gratitude she was incapable of vocalizing. "I'm sorry, Martha, but there are no social graces left in me. Wil you bring Rick and Christy home if Larry comes up with an excuse for lingering?"

  Martha didn't try to reassure her. She simply replied. "Of course."

  Jenny went to the coatroom, picked up her Burberry trenchcoat, and with a clinging shred of defiance, put it on and neatly belted it. She had overheard Ky's instruction to one of the models that the current fashion was to tie the belt, not buckle it. Securely buckled, Jenny went to say good-bye to her family. She hated going back into that room, but she was neither the storming-out nor the skulking-out type. She would do what had to be done, and in this case that included letting her children and her husband know she was going.

  "Larry."

  He turned, a flicker of irritation betraying his unwil ingness to be distracted from the sloe-eyed siren at his side.

  "Oh... Jenny, here you are. I wondered where you'd gone." Jenny held his gaze steadily, letting him read the lie reflected in her eyes. He tugged at his tie. "Why do you have your coat on? The party's just beginning."

  "For me, it's ending. I'm tired, and I have a ful day of work tomorrow. I'm sure the kids won't want to tear themselves away, and they can sleep in."

  Larry eyes shifted up, down, back and forth, making Jenny think of a caged animal looking for a hole in the fence. "Jen, look, if you real y want to go home, I'll get the kids and we'll al go together."

  "What would we do about the two cars?"

  "Oh yeah, I'd forgotten."

  The trap door tipped up an inch, al owing a smal creature of hope to escape. Oh Larry, Jenny inwardly pleaded, say you wouldn't think of al owing me to go home alone, that you can take the train to town and pick up the spare car tomorrow. Take me home, me and our children. Hold me close in your arms and tel
me that you love me above al others. Oh please, please, Larry.

  But Larry, with an expression that was a cross between discomfort and release, just said, "Wel , okay. I guess I'll hang around for a while. The kids are having a great time— I'd hate to tear them away." Bang! The hope-creature was slain.

  Jenny turned quickly away and went in search of Christy.

  "Mom! Why are you going home so early? You're such a party-poop! Can't you take one day off tomorrow from those dumb old books so you can stay and have fun? You'll get to be an old fud like Professor Clemens."

  Jenny glared at her sparkling, buoyant daughter, who had just come closer to insolence than she had in ages.

  "I'll see you later, Christy." She didn't want to deal with anything; she just wanted to get out.

  Unable to find Rick, she left a message with Martha and headed for the door. To her surprise, her son was standing in the foyer, waiting for her. "Rick! I was just looking for you to tel you I was leaving."

  "I know. I saw you saying good-bye to Dad and Christy. I'm going with you."

  "Oh?" Jenny studied him closely. "Are you sure, honey? You seemed to be having such a good time."

  "I'm going with you, Mom." He opened the door and held it for her. As they stepped out into the cool night air, Jenny's heart contracted. What was wrong? There were newly etched lines of adulthood on his grimly set face.

  They were very quiet, exchanging one or two spiritless observations about the party, then lapsing into silence until Jenny pul ed into the garage. As they walked through the back door to the kitchen, Rick grabbed the loyal poodle, who was right there to greet them, and hugged him close, burying his nose in the soft fur.

  He reminded her of herself the other day on the patio, Jenny thought. "Rick would you like some hot cocoa?"

  The solemn brown eyes met hers. "Yeah, that would be nice."

  They sat at opposite ends of the old couch in the den, feet curled beneath them. Jenny waited, knowing that Rick had something to say and that he would speak up when he was ready.

  "Mom?"

  "Yes, Rick."