Between Friends

by Kitt, Sandra

  “Please … I can’t talk about this,” Dallas said, nearly out of breath.

  He took hold of her arm again. “I don’t want to upset you, but I have to ask you something. I mean … afterward, I nearly went crazy wondering …”

  “I don’t want to …”

  “Dallas …” He said her name with a sudden urgency. “I have to know. Were you all right?”

  She stared at him. She hadn’t been at first. After they’d made love and she’d gone about her business and Alex had just gone. She’d never found out where to. Dallas thought now, as they sat facing each other discussing one of the most important moments of her life, fifteen years ago, that she had no idea what she would have done had things worked out differently.

  Her gaze shifted out the car window. Her hands were locked together in her lap. She could feel the firm grip of his hand, and the absentminded way his thumb rubbed along the material of her coat. The pressure went through to her skin.

  “I was two weeks late with my period,” she said in barely a whisper. Alex uttered an oath under his breath. She could tell, however, that it wasn’t in anger but rather a confirmation of his worst fears. “I can’t begin to tell you how scared I was. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell anyone. I … I thought … I thought I was pregnant.”

  Just saying it evoked in Dallas the total panic she’d felt several weeks after the evening spent with Alex. She’d cried to Valerie. To Maureen. But she’d never told either of them a thing about him.

  Dallas had wanted to have sex. That’s all it had been to her at the time. She had hoped that it would one day be romantic and tender, like true love … sacred and pure. But the boys she knew only wanted to get into her pants. For them it would have been a conquest. For her, it was the ultimate surrender. The first time had to be with someone she could trust. And the only person she could trust, because he’d never tried to take anything from her, had been Alex Marco.

  Dallas had asked him to.

  “But I wasn’t pregnant,” she finished. Alex squeezed her arm again. Relief? Understanding?

  “Man …” he drawled with feeling, rubbing his hand over his short springy hair.

  “You worried for no reason,” Dallas said.

  “You’re wrong. It was more than that, Dallas. It was … you know …”

  Slowly, she found herself smiling and she glanced at him in the dark enclosure of the car. “You mean … was it good for me?” She laughed. “I can’t believe we’re really having this conversation.”

  “Okay. So my ego wants to make sure I wasn’t a failure.”

  After a moment Dallas shrugged. She felt herself hedging. “I … I don’t know. At the time I didn’t know anything. I guess I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. I didn’t have anything to compare it to.”

  Alex sighed. He slid his hand down her arm and closed it around one of hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “Alex … I’m not. I know I wasn’t any good”—he curved his lips and shook his head at her judgment—“but I’m not sorry and I don’t blame you for anything.”

  Alex remembered how he’d felt that there was something personal at stake in taking Dallas Oliver to bed. First of all were all the myths that virgins were a great experience because they were so tight. Alex abruptly let go of Dallas’s hand and once more ran it over his head. But part of the thrill, he recalled, was talking the girl into believing she was going to enjoy it, and it wasn’t going to hurt, and of course that he cared about her.

  Alex turned his head to stare at Dallas’s profile. Her skin was smooth-looking. And her mouth had a sensuous little pout to it. Her chin small and pointed. He hadn’t noticed any of this when she was lying beneath him, panting in fear, her body stiff and inexperienced. Alex really hadn’t cared. Dallas had come to him, and he was ready to just get it on, and get off. Wondering whether Dallas had felt anything, if she had enjoyed it, was a concept that had come to him afterward. Years later, once he’d thought about it again. Because by then he knew more about women and had failed once or twice.

  Of anything Dallas could have done, she’d chosen to call him. He still didn’t understand why. Alex couldn’t remember if he’d ever taken the time back then to ask.

  Alex looked out the window in the direction of the house. “You still live with your folks?”

  Dallas grimaced. “No. I’m only staying for the night. I live in Manhattan. And you?”

  “I live in Brooklyn.”

  “Still?” she questioned.

  Alex nodded. “I’ve lived other places.”

  She wanted to ask him about his family. His mother. But Dallas didn’t know how to begin the conversation. Their knowledge of one another didn’t yet allow for that kind of intimacy.

  Another approaching car slowed and pulled up almost directly behind them. Dallas looked over her shoulder and thought she recognized the car out the back window. It belonged to Eleanor. The driver was Dean. He glanced in their direction several times and, after alighting from the car with several packages in his hands, walked to peer into the passenger side window.

  “Do you know him?” Alex asked.

  Dallas quickly detected the alertness with which he was assessing the man standing outside the car.

  “He’s my brother.”

  She searched for a means to open the window. Alex faced forward and started the engine again and then pressed the power window buttons. Dallas smiled up at Dean, who, having identified his sister, craned his head to get a good look at the driver of the car she sat in.

  “Dilly-Dally …”

  “Hi. Where are you just coming from?”

  “The mall. I wanted to pick up a few things.”

  Alex got out of the car. Dean stood back so that Dallas could do the same. The three of them converged on the sidewalk. Dallas could see the close attention her brother was focusing on Alex, taking his measure. She introduced them.

  “This is Alex Marco. Alex, this is my brother, Dean.”

  The two men shook hands. Dean was slightly taller than Alex, but he also appeared very slender and much younger standing next to him.

  “Alex Marco …” Dean repeated, his attention still drawn to him.

  “Nice to meet you,” Alex said clearly. His own thorough scrutiny indicated his surprise as well.

  Dallas knew what he was thinking.

  “You related to that Marco family a few blocks down the street?” Dean asked.

  Alex felt Dallas looking at him, wondering how he was going to answer. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His arms pinned his leather jacket open. The action made Alex very aware of the notebook in the inside pocket. The one he’d found among Nicholas’s things that belonged to her.

  “Sort of.”

  “Alex gave me a ride from Lillian’s.” Dallas turned to her brother. He was appraising her with something approaching skepticism. “I haven’t seen him since I was a teenager.”

  “I don’t remember him. How come you never mentioned him before?” Dean asked outright.

  “I never lived around here. I just come to visit now and then.”

  “Oh. You a cousin?” Dean asked.

  Alex grinned cryptically. “Once or twice removed,” he murmured.

  Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Well … I’m heading in. Mom’s holding dinner for me.” Dean pointed a finger in their direction and turned toward the house. “You coming in?” he asked his sister.

  “In a minute.”

  Dallas and Alex faced each other after Dean had closed the door behind himself.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother,” he said.

  “Once or twice removed,” she repeated.

  Alex nodded, as if he understood. “You’d better go in, too.”

  It seemed a little abrupt to have to wish him good night now. Suddenly she didn’t know what to say. It was nice to see you again? Thanks for worrying about me? Thanks for not asking about Dean?

  “Thanks for the lift.”

  He wav
ed briefly and felt the weight of the notebook against his chest. “So you’re a writer. What do you write?” He opened the driver side door, preparing to get in.

  “Articles. Essays. Sometimes a short story. I write about people’s behavior and beliefs, trends. How sometimes they don’t make any sense. I’m paid to voice my opinion.”

  “Oh, yeah? Sounds deep,” he said, chuckling. “I’d like to read your opinion about what love is.”

  He said it so offhandedly that she knew he was teasing her. “Couldn’t you pick something easier? What about you?”

  “You mean, what do I think about love?” He grinned, and Dallas laughed at his quick comeback. “I don’t do anything important,” Alex said smoothly. “I collect garbage. Look for lost things.”

  The answer so surprised her that Dallas stared at him, waiting for the punch line.

  “I’m kidding,” Alex said, seeing her blank expression. “I do marine salvaging. I’ll call you sometime,” he announced cavalierly. “Maybe we’ll get together …”

  Salvaging … “Have a safe trip home.”

  “Right.”

  Dallas stood and watched his car pull away down the street. After a moment she could only make out the red globes of the taillights. Then he signaled to make a left-hand turn. And then he was gone.

  Alex reached inside his open jacket and pulled out the notebook. She’s a writer, he said to himself, as if that explained something. He just held it, feeling the thickness of it and trying to decide if he’d been wrong in taking it. Private … DO NOT READ was pretty specific. Alex had a sense that if he read the thoughts of Dallas Oliver written when she was just a kid, he wouldn’t find anything that could be very interesting. Probably embarrassing. He glanced at the notebook in his hand. Mistake. He should definitely not have taken it. He dropped the book on the passenger seat and gave his attention back to the road.

  He was going in the wrong direction.

  Annoyed with himself for the distraction, Alex checked the street signs to get oriented again, and doubled back about a quarter of a mile. Soon he was heading northeast on the Seaford-Oyster Bay Parkway. He glanced at the car clock. He was going to be late. But there was nothing he would have done differently. He would have come out to help Lillian no matter what. Dallas being there was, now that he thought about it and the shock had worn off, a bonus. It had come back to him, several times since seeing her at Nick’s funeral, little details and information about that first time they’d met. And the second. But Dallas was a whole different person now. Fifteen years ago she had been so damned young. Well, so was he … but he had known a lot more about everything than she did. Not that he’d been any smarter.

  There was a bright prettiness to her face. When she moved and when she talked, Alex sensed a woman who was quick, smart, and strong. Not as afraid as she used to be. Dallas Oliver had come into her own, but there remained a certain reserve about her. Careful around people. He’d seen it earlier with Vin. With himself.

  Fifteen minutes later, Alex was still considering the change in her. He frowned as he turned off the main boulevard onto a residential street. He suddenly realized that he really didn’t know anything about her. She’d grown up a few blocks from Lillian and Vin. The one thing he really couldn’t get a handle on was the fact that Dallas didn’t look anything like her brother, Dean. Not even close.

  Alex pulled in to the curb and parked his car again in front of another house. He sat for a moment, only beginning to wonder what it must have been like for her growing up where she wasn’t welcomed. He remembered all that Nicholas had said about her. But all he had to do was think of his own mother, Alex realized, and how he was raised. He’d grown up poor, had been scorned and harassed by kids and adults who treated him as if he were worthless. Alex looked at Dallas’s book again, picked it up, and frowned at the cover. My Journal … Private … DO NOT READ …

  He remembered once thinking, if he could find his real father, prove to the other kids in his neighborhood that he had one, they’d stop calling his mother names. It had gotten to a point where Alex didn’t care what they called him. What was said to him didn’t make it true. But he’d wanted a father. He wanted someone there who came in the door at night, tall and steady with a deep voice and big hands. Who was strong and knew how to do things. Who could take him places, and sit at the dinner table with him and his mother and grandmother. Who could stand around the front of the building talking to the other fathers, and he could look and see him there and point him out as his father. The Old Man. Dad.

  He had a feeling that there was a strong connection between himself and Dallas Oliver. Especially because of the relationship Dallas had with Lillian. Alex frowned as he stared out his car window. He felt a caution pull him up short. He had to be careful. He was already carrying enough of his own baggage. There was already enough in his life that was a mess.

  Alex turned off the engine and put the notebook inside his glove compartment. He got out of the car and approached the door. Before he had arrived at the top step, it opened. The woman holding the door looked both a little annoyed and half amused.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to stand me up.” She chuckled wryly.

  He smiled as he noticed how great Valerie looked. “I bet no one’s ever stood you up.”

  “Not more than once, and they don’t get a second chance. Did you run into traffic? Saturdays out here can be god-awful, especially near the malls.”

  Alex stepped into the house and turned to face Valerie as she closed the door. “No, it wasn’t traffic. I was with Lillian this afternoon, helping her with Nick’s things.”

  Valerie’s smile vanished. She nodded sadly and walked into the living room. Alex followed her.

  “I bet that wasn’t a lot of fun,” she murmured.

  Alex shrugged. “It had to be done.”

  “So … did you find anything interesting?” Valerie asked.

  Alex hesitated. He didn’t know why yet, but he decided not to mention Dallas’s presence. “Nothing you need to know about.”

  Valerie became instantly curious and came to stand directly in front of Alex, looking up into his face. “Tell me.”

  “Nick liked to read pornographic magazines.”

  She grimaced and turned away. “You’re right. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  Alex glanced around. “Where’s Megan? You get a baby-sitter for the night?”

  “She’s at my mother’s until tomorrow. She was hoping to see you before I drove her over there. She likes you, Alex. I’m so glad,” Valerie said.

  “I like Megan, too. You’re lucky. She’s a nice little girl. Everything seems to have worked out.”

  Valerie looked disconcerted. “I don’t know. She’s starting to ask questions, Alex.”

  “About who her father is.”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Alex turned away, thinking about it. He walked about the small room until he was once again standing in front of Valerie. “I don’t know what to say to you, Val. Maybe you should just tell her.”

  Valerie cringed and shook her head. “That’s what Dallas said. I can’t. Megan might get really mad at me. She’ll say, if I knew all along where her father was, why didn’t I say anything.”

  “Tell her he didn’t know about her.” Alex pursed his lips and stared down at the toes of his boots. “It happens all the time. One-night stands. Close encounters …” He glanced at her sideways. “Does Dallas know about you and …”

  Valerie shook her head vigorously. “No, I never told her.”

  “I thought she’s your best friend.”

  “She is, but …” Valerie hedged. “I just never did. My mother still doesn’t know.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “Yeah. I’m good at that,” she said sarcastically. “Megan says she’s not going to get married or have children until she’s old. Like twenty-five.”

  “Smart.” Alex grinned.

  Valerie chortled. “Not
at all like me, which is probably a good thing. I don’t want her to make the same mistakes I did.”

  “Maybe they weren’t all mistakes,” Alex said. “You’ll always have her.”

  “It’s not like I’m ashamed or anything. But I should have done things differently. I should have said something at the time. You know?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Valerie was standing in front of a large mirror that hung over the sofa. She automatically checked her reflection, fingering her hair and straightening the necklace she wore.

  Alex glanced around the quiet living room. “Megan could have come with us,” he murmured. “It would have been okay with me.”

  Valerie shook her head. “It wouldn’t have been okay with me. You and I couldn’t really be alone, or talk openly. She really wanted to spend the weekend with Dallas, but she already had plans.”

  Alex wondered why Dallas hadn’t been specific about her plans to be with Lillian. On the other hand, he didn’t see the need to mention that, coincidentally, he and Dallas had spent the afternoon together.

  Valerie turned from the mirror. “Do you want a drink before we leave?”

  “I don’t drink,” Alex said absently.

  Valerie, in the process of heading for her purse, glanced over her shoulder at him. “What do you mean you don’t drink?”

  “Soda’s fine. Beer. No alcohol.”

  Valerie’s expression showed genuine surprise. “Really? You’re … you’re not an … alcoholic, are you?”

  “No.” He moved restlessly around the living room again. The space was beginning to feel cramped. “Alcohol affects my judgment. I don’t like the feeling.”

  “Oh, a control freak,” Valerie muttered dismissively.

  “Only about myself.”

  She laughed this time. She came close again and smiled seductively into Alex’s face. “I like that. A man who’s sure about himself … and who knows what he’s doing.”

  Alex looked down into Valerie’s face. Her makeup only enhanced a natural beauty that he would bet had been apparent since she could crawl. She was in the prime of her looks and allure. She was the kind of a woman who drew men so effortlessly that he was surprised that she had never married or moved away from Long Island.